


Oh Freedom, to whom I owe my soul

by shewhowritestoomuch



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Depression, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Fluff, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Self-Doubt, Shame, but it gets better, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhowritestoomuch/pseuds/shewhowritestoomuch
Summary: When faced with the choice of imprisoning Lord Thomas Hamilton; a peer with a voice in Whitehall and the respect of his fellow men, or Lieutenant James McGraw; an Irish upstart disliked by most of his subordinates, Alfred Hamilton chooses the easier one to write off as mad.Three years later, after much scheming, Lord Thomas Hamilton, 5th Earl of Ashbourne and Lord Proprietor of New Providence Island, attempts to right the wrongs that his father and England have wrought upon the world.It would be a lie to say that it is easy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters this will be, but I've got a good 30k written out, so there will probably be a lot.
> 
> Kudos and Comment if you like (or even if you don't and think there's something I need to fix RE: characterization, run on sentences).
> 
> Hope you enjoy

1708, London

The London house of Lord and Lady Hamilton, Fifth Earl and Countess of Ashbourne, had not been quite so chaotic and full of bustling servants since they had moved in after they were first married more than ten years before. Even then, most of the furniture had been there already, whereas now, everything was being packed away.

The dust in the air would have put Alfred Hamilton in a rage, had he not been slowly decomposing in his grave.

The thought of her dead father in law, as it had often done in these tumultuous days, brought a smile to her face and a brief moment of peace before she was called back into the chaos of the present.

Miranda had never seen her house so filled with life. In truth, she didn’t need to be here, she could have joined her husband by the docks while the many servants oversaw the removal of her worldly possessions. It was just that she was nervous, today would be the day she’d leave behind the only home she’d ever known for an island that was by all accounts filled with pirates and whores.

It seemed, as with most things in life, that the theory of reclaiming Nassau, of liberating it from the ideas that robbed it of its sustainability, was easier in theory than it would ever be in practice.

It was amazing how quickly things had happened in the short weeks since Alfred had died. Thomas had been appointed Governor of Nassau in only two weeks, and while the provisions for the pardons had never eventuated, so many of the reforms Thomas, Peter and… James, that sweet James had fought for, had passed through Whitehall without even the smallest murmur of discontent.

And this morning, this glorious shining morning?

James had been released from Bedlam after three years of his unjust imprisonment there.

Miranda had not been there to oversee his release; Thomas’ men being entrusted with transporting him from the hospital to the docks. She had quickly accepted that it was for the best; while she prided herself on being able to keep her head, the thought of James in such a horrible place made her skin crawl and brought tears to her eyes.

Maybe it was his presence there that prevented Miranda from travelling to their ship. For three years she hadn’t dared to travel anywhere near him, for fear of rebuke from her despised father-in-law, and now she was unsure of how to act. So, now, instead of being with her husband, she was fussing about how she left a house that would no doubt be cleaned by the servants the minute she got out of the way.

She felt almost guilty as she stared out one of the street facing windows, watching the birds flit around her garden, and the carriages roll through the streets.

“Lady Hamilton?”

Miranda turned as one of the footmen approached her with a letter on a tray. She picked up the paper waiting for the footman to say what was in it anyway.

“Your Husband has sent for you, he says that the time for you to depart for the ship has come.”

Miranda nodded and smiled at the footman, gesturing for him to leave with a quick wave of her hands.

She steeled herself as her soon to be former lady’s maid helped her into the coat. Poor Felicity had tears in her eyes as she brushed specks of imaginary dust from the fur trim, and straightened the hem over the voluminous fabric of her hem.

For a moment, Miranda wondered if it was too late, if she couldn’t try to convince Thomas to give up his governorship over New Providence Island, if they couldn’t create a metaphorical one in the home that she had taken care of and presided over since she was twenty-five; where she, James and Thomas would find peace together.

She embraced Felicity, forcing herself to remain composed as she turned and walked through her front door.

It was time to see the damage three years had wrought upon one of the people she loved most in the world.

* * *

They had come for him in the morning, strange men who he had never seen before wearing livery that he thought he remembered from a half forgotten dream of a time long ago.

He had not resisted.

Instead, he had tried to stand, to act as the gentleman his mentor had tried to mould him into, to be brave as he had been once before, but after three years of captivity his legs refused to obey him.

A tall man had lifted him onto his feet and had held him still as one of the others to drape a blanket over his shoulders before he was lifted by the tall man and carried out of his cell. They had walked slowly through the halls of the horror-house that had imprisoned him for three years. He wondered if this was a rescue, or kindness being shown to a condemned man on his final walk.

They had taken him to a carriage waiting by the front gate, a beautiful vessel that had curtains in a colour that seemed familiar, as though he had known it once before and was returning home.

He had not resisted.

Instead, he tried to settle himself in a comfortable position, and arrange his blanket around his shoulders, but after three years of disuse, his arms had refused to co-operate.

A short man had seen him struggling and had arranged a bolt of rich soft fabric around his shoulders until the cold winter air no longer bothered him, closed the curtains and bid him sleep. The others were very pleasant as he waited to let sleep claim him, and had given him enough space that he was not jostled. He wondered if he was a traitor after-all not to be harmed until he reached Newgate.

They had driven for a bit, until they reached the docks and began to move him towards a ship that lay waiting for him, the lines familiar like the ships he remembered from his youth.

He had not resisted.

Instead, he had tried to lift his right hand to shield his face from the soft winter sun, but after three years of constant abuse, his fingers were too bent and crooked to sufficiently cover his eyes.

A very tall blond man, with kind blue eyes had stepped between him and the sun, and with a soft smile breathed out his name. The Man had smiled beatifically like an Angel of the Lord while walking down the gangplank, and practically run towards the carriage upon sighting it. He had wondered if this was a trick, an illusion that his fevered mind had conjured to comfort him in his last moments.

“James,” the Angel sighed and reached out for him.

He had collapsed from shock shortly after that. The last thing that he remembered as his vision faded into a soft grey was the feeling of gentle arms encircling his form, and a sweet kiss being placed to his cheek.

He hoped that the gentle phantom, for there was no way that this could actually be reality, would not be disappointed by the way he had responded to being led into the next world. He was sure that he remembered a part of a sermon from his childhood where some shepherds had reacted with even less dignity, so he supposed that he might be alright.

He was unconscious as the men from the carriage brought him up the gangplank, and thus unaware of the way that the angle kept within two feet of his still form as he was brought onto the ship, and how the Angel arranged the blankets around his shoulders when he was laid in a bed.

* * *

Thomas stood on deck of the ship that was to lead the fleet of 6 ships to begin a colony in Nassau.

Or at least that was what the plan was on paper. In reality, two of the ships would take bad enough damage in a ‘storm’ that they would be forced to return to England two weeks into the journey. The first-of-the line warship would ‘vanish’ a few weeks later, and he would enter Nassau port with only three ships: two that were carrying only foodstuff and farm equipment, and his own which was vastly inferior to most of the pirate vessels, or so he had been told.

A lot of time and energy had been invested in this particular part of the plan. Though when he had considered what he had done before, it was a mere grain of sand among many.

It had taken three years of waiting and planning to see his father dead and buried in the cold ground, and when he saw the state of James he regretted that he hadn’t seen to the Earl’s demise earlier.

He barely resisted the urge to hit the expertly carved wood which made up the bow. It was not the ship’s fault that James had been terribly mistreated, nor that his father had been a complete and utter ass in his pigheaded refusal to allow his only heir to even see the former Lieutenant.

He smiled as he saw his dear wife ascend the gangplank, her pace quickening as she saw him and made her way over to him.

“My love,” he embraced her, his hands coming up to rest in the fur trim of her coat as she leant against him. He kissed her as she sighed into his chest, waiting for her to ask the all-important question.

“Is he aboard?”

Thomas smiled and took a step away from her so that he could look upon her beautiful face, his eyes sweeping over the deck to see if anyone was within earshot of them.

“He is,” he whispered, his mouth downturned. “Though, Miranda, the state he is in, it is worse than I feared when we agreed to set upon this venture. I fear that we waited too long, he’s so very hurt.”

“I would like to see him, even if he is unconscious. Even if you might think it shocking.”

Thomas held out his arm, relaxing into Miranda’s touch as she hooked her own around it, and pulled him close to his side. They took slow even steps, the trepidation that Miranda must have felt clear upon her face as she clung to Thomas’ side.

“He hasn’t said a word since we brought him aboard.” He breathed heavily as they approached their cabin, taken from the captain when Thomas had placed a full purse in the man’s hands.

“If we give him the time to recover from his ordeal, I am sure he’ll speak again.”

Thomas nodded, pushing open the door to the cabin and leading Miranda to the cot where James slept.

Their shared lover was still beautiful, despite the three years he’d spent at the hands of madmen whilst being called one himself. Grey was beginning to show at the hair on his temples, and two thick streaks of it were well established in his tangled beard. His hands had been examined by the ship’s doctor and were now wrapped in thick bandages and resting on his chest.

“Oh,” Miranda brought a hand down as if to brush James’ hair out of his face, but stopped a quarter inch above his skin, as though she was afraid of breaking him.

“I know,” Thomas knelt by the cot, pulling Miranda down with him until they were both seated on the wooden decks. “Promise me that we’ll help him heal and be whole once more.”

Miranda nodded and kissed him on the cheek. She looked off into the distance when she retreated and began to speak. “O brave new world that has such people in it.”

Thomas smiled, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.

It was the beginning of something, but he didn’t quite know what.


	2. James I.

The Hamilton family made landfall at Nassau five and a half weeks after their departure from London. James had not been cognizant of much during the early weeks of the voyage, but he had noticed that the fleet they travelled in became smaller as they approached Nassau, until there was only two other ships accompanied them.

The winds had been in their favour, the sailors had worked well, and the sailing master had known how to coax extra speed out of the vessels.

Had he still been a member of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, he would have been pleased with the efficiency of the crew. He might have even penned a letter of commendation, even though strictly speaking that was out of the bounds of a mere lieutenant.

Instead he stayed in the cabin for the entire journey and stared out the window to observe the wake of the ship behind them. On one day there had even been dolphins, though by the time that he had thought to share the sight with Thomas and Miranda, the creatures had gone off. It wasn’t like he would have been able to explain what he wanted them to see even if he had alerted them to the animals from the moment he first saw them.

James had not spoken a word since he had been released from Bedlam, much to the concern of Thomas and Miranda.

The Ship’s doctor had assured them that there was nothing wrong with the apparatus of his vocal tract which would permanently impede his ability to speak. There were no cuts, no abrasions, no contusions. James had listened and nodded when the doctor had tried to assure the loves of his life that there was no fear of his being rendered mute for the rest of his life, even as he made no sound.

They didn’t know that he was trying so hard, and that his failure made his cheeks burn with shame.

James had not allowed them to see him without his nightshirt on, again much to the concern of Thomas and Miranda.

The Ship’s doctor had assured them that none of his wounds were in danger of becoming infected and festering. They were bandaged, washed, and had ointments placed on them daily. James had listened and nodded when the doctor explained it, but still refused to disrobe in front of them that night.

They didn’t know that he had tried to remove the shirt that night, only to talk himself out of it.

James had not taken a step out of the captain’s cabin since they had set sail from London.

The Ship’s doctor had assured them that none of the muscles in his legs had atrophied. They were massaged, stretched and walked every day. James had listened and nodded when the doctor spoke to them, and even stumbled around the cabin for a moment to demonstrate his attempt at staying active even in his reduced state.

They didn’t know that he yearned for the feel of the breeze on his skin, but his own shame stopped him from taking a step outside.

James had not allowed them to touch him since he regained full consciousness in the first week of their voyage.

Thomas’s heart was breaking. Miranda’s too. He could see it.

And the worst part was that James wanted them. He wanted to feel their touch, to breathe their air, to speak with them. He hated how limited he was, how changed he had become since he had been removed to Bedlam, and it was exactly that which kept him from attempting to be with them. He’d struggled to speak on their level when he’d had all his mental faculty, he couldn’t imagine it now.

And even if he had felt that he had his wits about him, something felt utterly broken in him, something had been wrenched from his soul, and he had no way of getting it back.

So instead he spent his time hidden under the ample covers that Miranda and Thomas had provided him with, trying to mask the deficiencies that he saw within himself by means of his silence and the physical barrier provided by his blanket.

That was not to say that they didn’t try to engage with him. He hated himself for every single time he flinched away from them, for every time that Thomas would give him a crumb in the form of a quote from Aurelius, or Miranda would give him a line from the bard, and he would remain completely silent. All he wanted was to feel was their warmth, and he kept on pushing them away.

So expert was he in ensuring the distance between the Hamilton’s and he that it was no wonder that when they made landfall Thomas was one of the first men in the longboats, and that Miranda followed him soon after. He had been left in the care of the ship’s doctor, carefully loaded into the last longboat along with the other ballast.

He made no protest as he was loaded into a carriage with the ship’s doctor and found himself closing his eyes when it began to move, the rolling of the carriage soothing as the rocking of the ship had been.

When he opened them again, they had stopped in front of what he could only assume was the Governor’s Mansion.

It was a different house to the one that the last governor had occupied and slightly further away from Nassau town proper, with a sprawling lawn on a slight incline up to the front door. James wondered if Thomas had much say in the design process, as there was a Grecian air about the place which certainly suited his lover’s sensibilities.

The ship’s doctor was the one to bundle him out of the carriage and take him to the front door. His steps were slow and faltering as they shuffled along the path.

“You’re doing very well Mr. Hamilton,” the doctor smiled at him as he nearly stumbled for the third time. “The Governor told me he’s hired a full-time physician for your care until you are fully recovered, and you’ll have much more time to work on your recovery than you had on the ship. It should be no time at all until you feel as you were before… all the unpleasantness.”

If James had been slightly stronger, then he might have startled at the strange sensation of being addressed by Thomas’ name.

As it was, he just sighed softly in relief as they reached the door. They entered the house, and the doctor lowered James onto a _chaise-lounge_ that had been expertly arranged in the foyer.

The man who had been his only source of human touch for the past almost two months frowned as he caught sight of a grandfather clock situated under the stairs.

“I must leave you here Mr Hamilton, my ship requires me to help load our new cargo aboard.” He tipped his hat, smiled sadly and departed from the house.

And with that James was left alone.

He closed his eyes, forcing his left hand to relax from the claw he had drawn it into. There was little to be done for the right while it was so heavily bandaged.

His breaths came rapidly, and while he knew that he should try to calm himself down, his mind was moving far too quickly. Images of what had happened to him and what might happen to him flashed before his mind, the only constant theme in each of the memories and imaginings being the certainty of his solitude.

Thomas had been like a light in his life, a burning star which attracted all to its heavenly glow. In 1705, he had felt as though he was worthy of the attention and care that his lover’s celestial personality had heaped upon him. Now he was just some broken thing, who had been more trouble to his lovers than he was worth.

Surely now, now that Thomas had achieved everything he had dreamed for Nassau, there was no need for a broken Irish menace from Padstow who was of little importance in the grand scheme of things.

He would recover, and then, when Thomas could reasonably say that he had assuaged his guilt for what had happened in Bedlam, he would be sent back.

And then he would be finished.

Even with Alfred Hamilton dead, Hennessy’s existence in London meant that the bustling city was barred to him. He expected that he’d find himself forced back to Cornwall, to Padstow where he might be branded as the mad lieutenant, fallen from grace after wrongly trying to better himself.

Or, there might be the option of going to Ireland, where the McGraith’s had raised his mother before she’d fled over the Celtic sea with his father. His shame might not be known there, and he might be able to eke out a living there.

Wherever he ended up, he was quite certain that he would not be permitted to stay in Nassau.

He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, the entire world falling away as he was left to his panic.

And then he heard achingly familiar footsteps coming down the stairs, and he opened his eyes.

The Doctor had said that there was still some time left before he made a full recovery. He would not delay it if it would mean more work for Thomas, even if it might allow him more time in the man’s presence.

“James, my love, have you been sitting here for long?”

He tried his best to smile. He shook his head and did his best to stand straight on his own two feet.

Thomas stepped forward and bid him to slow down with a soothing gesture and a gentle smile.

“You mustn’t rush yourself, my dear.” God, Thomas’ smile was blinding. “The ship’s doctor said that the stairs might be difficult for you, but unfortunately we can’t spare any of the downstairs rooms for your use. Will you be able to make the climb?”

James nodded.

It was as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. That easy, and that hard too.

It seemed Thomas had finally learnt of James’ distaste for the touch of others, staying a step below him as he walked up the stairs. The Earl’s arms were not there for his comfort, merely a safety net for if he were to fall.

And it was enough.

He had been too greedy before, to wish to share the heart of someone who shone so brilliantly, like a diamond without flaw in the summer’s warm light. He had tried to reach for something that was inherently and eternally beyond the likes of him, and he had paid the price for it.

Now he knew better; that it was safer to admire such a great man from a distance.

He would hold himself back, even as his heart screamed at him to walk forward and declare his eternal love for Thomas in whatever way that he could.

That might be a cruelty in itself, after all he would be gone soon, when the patience of the two angelic beings who had sustained him in Bedlam and cared for him now reached its end. He would make no sound of complaint even if he could bring it forth from his throat by that time. He would not be ungrateful for the time they had bestowed upon him. He would not beg them to reconsider his banishment.

No, when they bid him leave, as even someone with the patience of a saint would do if faced with him for long, he would smile, and depart their lives in a fashion as smoothly as he had entered it before vanishing into obscurity.

And it would be enough.

It did not take a very long time for them to reach the landing. Once there was no risk of a fall Thomas strode ahead and bid James to follow him as he walked towards one of the many bedrooms above the foyer.

“It’s a little larger than the room we shared in the London house. The physician we’ve hired has placed a sort of netting, under which you are to sleep. I know you’ve been in these waters before, and are probably used to the maladies which are of this place, but I wouldn’t want to burden you while you are ill.”

Thomas stepped forward slightly, just outside of the radius in which James would have flinched back and gestured for James to hand him the blanket he had retained from when he was first removed from Bedlam.

“This place, it seems, knows no law, not even in its seasons. I can take this from you if you like, I’m sure after the past two months you’ll be glad of something nice and clean.”

Thomas smiled beatifically as James handed him the blanket. He stepped forwards, excitement seeping into his expression even as James ducked his head and stared at his shoulders.

“Would you like something to eat? Or drink? We’re yet to hire a full time cook, but there is a cornucopia of fruit, all of which Miranda assures me is delicious.”

James shook his head and stepped away from Thomas. The thought of solid food was too much for him at this moment. All he wanted to do was to sleep, even knowing that he’d already had his fill of that particular activity in the five and a half weeks it had taken them to get to this place.

“I’m afraid that I have business to attend to, so I won’t be able to stay very long. In fact,” Thomas’s voice caught, and James looked up frowning when he saw Thomas was avoiding his gaze, “I should leave now. If you need anything there’s a bell. One of the maids from the London house, Minnie, I think her name was…” Thomas paused and breathed heavily, “She will attend to you if you want for anything.”

He left.

James knew that Miranda and Thomas had worked very hard to free him from Bedlam and were working very hard now to take care of him until he was well.

He should have tried to make an effort, to place himself under the net that existed to protect him from the myriad mosquitoes who called New Providence Island their home, while still allowing himself access to the fresh sea breeze that came off of Nassau Port.

But he did not want it.

He was not a creature of the light, and he would not partake of its healing energy.

James took a few steps forward, reached for the window’s shutters, and pulled them closed.

The room fell into a muggy darkness.

He walked back towards the bed, staring at it with a sense of trepidation for a few moments.

No, he would not partake of that either.

James laid himself on the hard floor, as he had done for the last three years, and waited for sleep to find him.

It was enough.


	3. Miranda I.

It had only been six hours since she had left the Governor’s mansion for the first time, and Miranda already vastly preferred the crudely fashioned streets of Nassau over the sprawling mess of London by a country mile.

While her husband arranged to meet with the Island’s many pirate captains and plantation owners, she assigned herself the task of finding the members of her household necessary for the upkeep of her new home. They’d been on the Island for only a week, and already it was becoming apparent how woefully understaffed they were.

She had footmen and gardeners aplenty, and even the housekeeper had agreed to travel to the New World with her, but she lacked maids other than poor Minnie, and most importantly, she lacked a cook. Her obligations to helping what was left of her London staff to adjust to New Providence Island had kept her from this outing for long enough.

Even more regretfully they had kept her from taking care of James as she should. She was lucky if she caught a glimpse of him when one of the footmen took him his meals. With the extra staff, surely she would find more time to spend with him.

Before she had left the ship, while she stole a few moments to spy on James’ still form as he slept, she had devised a list of the most essential people, those who the running of her house relied upon most heavily. She had very little doubt that they would be of a lesser quality than what she might be able to find in London, but she would take what she could get.

While she did her best, it was very hard to stop her mind from wandering as she walked in the general direction of the Guthrie Tavern. There was such diversity in the people, in the clothes, even in the weapons of the men and women she assumed to be pirates. The entire island seemed to be a visual feast for her eyes, designed solely to delight her as London had never done.

Even the brothel, painted in such an enchanting shade of blue, was gorgeous to look at, and she only averted her eyes when she entered the tavern, to begin to look for someone in charge.

She supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see that there was a blonde girl who was scarcely more than seventeen years old behind the bar.

“This isn’t a place for people like you.”

The blonde hadn’t lifted her gaze from where she was cleaning a metal cup.

Miranda stepped forward and put on what Thomas dubbed as her society smile.

“I’m looking for a representative of the Guthrie family. I believed I could find someone fitting that description here.” She looked around, a dark-skinned man catching her eye as she searched.

“What the fuck do you need with a Guthrie?”

Miranda walked towards the bar, moving past the many drunken sailors to stand in front of the bar. She ignored the prickling feeling on the back of her neck as she felt everyone’s eyes set on her.

One problem at a time.

“I’d prefer to discuss that with the representative, if it’s all the same to you.”

The blonde put her worn rag aside and extended her hand as her lips twisted into a smirk.

“Eleanor Guthrie. My office is upstairs.”

Once she had set foot in it, Miranda had to admit that Eleanor Guthrie’s office was quite impressive, though Miranda suspected that most of the effort to turn the shabby room into the respectable space she stood in now had been from the dark-skinned man standing in the corner. Once in every while Eleanor would turn to him, as though to check that she was indeed saying the right thing.

“Is there a particular reason that you’re refusing to consider the possibility of using slaves? It makes no sense from an economic perspective.”

“My husband and I don’t hold with slavery. We’d prefer to help someone to feed themselves and their family,” Miranda felt her lips twitched as she shifted her gaze to the man. “Besides, it would make little sense to entrust a person who had every reason to hold a grudge against me and my family with my food. I trust that you find no fault in that logic, Mr…?”

“Scott, Lady Hamilton. You might call me Mr. Scott.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Miranda turned back to Eleanor. “Enough men have profited off of the misery of others to fill all the halls of hell. I refuse to count myself among them.”

Eleanor sighed as she looked in a particular ledger. “I can arrange for at least two maids to go home with you today, and perhaps find a cook for you in the next week. Can you survive for that long?”

Miranda smiled and stood.

“I’ll find a way to make do. Shall I wait downstairs while you ferry my maids across from the brothel?”

Eleanor blushed, nodding as she stood and turned to her silent companion.

“Mr. Scott will accompany you downstairs.”

Miranda stood, offering her arm to Mr. Scott, smiling as he led her out of the room.

“Miss Guthrie will not have said anything, but you and your husband are not safe here. There might be some safety inland while Teach is away, but I assure you, he knows freedom from England, he will not be keen to be put under her yoke again.”

Miranda smiled, steeling herself in the same way she had when faced by a verbal assault by her Father in Law. She took the first step down the stairs, setting the pace for herself and Mr. Scott.

“My Husband will be visiting this establishment tomorrow.” Miranda steadied herself against Mr. Scott as she felt the fine fabric of her dress slip beneath her left foot. “He and you, or he and Eleanor, whoever actually runs this place, will be discussing the economic future of Nassau, and New Providence Island.”

“The denizens of Nassau will not be content for a life without the freedom that piracy has provided them with. This might be the only place in the known world where people live their lives as they wish, free from any of the oppression that your husband represents.”

Miranda laughed.

“Oh, we would never suggest that these men should give up a profession which they have perfected. Rather, we’re going to suggest that they allow us to help them, and you to commit piracy on a grander, smarter scale.”

“And what can you provide these people that the Guthries cannot?”

Miranda stepped on the tavern floor, disentangling herself from Mr. Scott. She turned to face him, her hands coming together to be clasped on front of her bodice.

“Respectability, and not the mere veneer of it which guarantees a small shipping avenue to Boston.”

“And why would you want to do that?”

“Why do any of the people here do the things that they do?” She sighed, “I want to see England, and all of the hypocrisy it stands for, burn. Can you deny that as a relatable goal?”

Mr. Scott did not have time to respond to her before Eleanor, who must have practically sprinted to the brothel and back, entered her tavern with three girls in tow. And truly, some of them were but girls; the darkest skinned one could have barely been fifteen, and even the tall blonde looked little more than eighteen.

“These are your new maids.” Eleanor gestured back at the three former whores. Miranda frowned.

“As I recall, I only asked for two.” Miranda fixed Eleanor with a glare.

Eleanor winced, “They are all good workers, and I’m sure that they would be of great service to you. The last governor had eight maids and he could barely cope as it was.”

For all that Eleanor tried to hide her vulnerability, Miranda could sense the nervous energy running under her skin. She would not be cruel and would accept the three.

It was not as though her purse would be overstretched.

“What should I call you all?” She sighed and turned to the women, smiling weakly at them.

Eleanor stepped forward, pointing first to the blonde, and then to the brunette and finally to the dark-skinned girl.

“This is Charlotte, Idelle, and Max. Charlotte can draw, Max is lettered. Idelle, um, is very talented.”

Miranda nodded, the skin about her eyes creasing as she saw Max look back at Eleanor in question.

Interesting.

“I assume they owed some sort of debt to the proprietor of the brothel?” Miranda smiled as Eleanor balked in surprise. Maybe she would make a habit of coming to the Guthrie tavern if it meant that she got to cause that expression of utter surprise on the young woman’s face so easily and frequently. “You can tell me how much they owe in either pounds of dollars, whichever’s easier.”

“Charlotte owes $123, Max $48, and Idelle $96. If you don’t have the money on you now, I can extend you a line of credit to be paid in full the next time you’re in town.”

“I can pay some of it now, my husband will pay the rest next he visits your establishment.” She handed fifty dollars over to Eleanor without looking away from the girls.

Miranda frowned at the prices. It was apparent that they’d no ability to pay it off themselves. While she hated to interrupt Thomas’ plans by suggesting the removal of the brothel itself, she was determined to see its proprietor taken to task.

“You might as well follow me to the carriage. Somehow I don’t think the denizens of Nassau will cry scandal.” She smiled as she turned to walk towards the carriage, grinning as she heard three sets of footsteps begin to follow her.

She weaved her way through the Nassau streets towards her carriage, occasionally looking back to make sure that the whores-cum-housemaids hadn’t gotten lost in the confusion. While she would never admit it to anyone, it was rather heartening to see the way that Charlotte corralled Max and Idelle, the blonde occasionally hissing at any men who dared stray to close.

They reached the carriage with little fuss, Miranda biting back a smile as she observed Max’s wonder at the fine curtains which blocked out the all-powerful Caribbean sunlight. Her three new employees squeezed themselves onto one of the benches, leaving her alone as she faced them.

“Now, there are a few things you need to understand if you wish to work in my household.” Miranda sighed as they all tensed. She held up a placating hand, and forced a smile to her lips.

“At least let me start before you riot.”

Charlotte nodded, taking Max’s hand before she spoke. “You can tell us now.”

“You get one day off a week, and the morning on Sundays if you wish to attend a chapel service. I know that you are used to living undoubtedly wicked existences, but while you are in my employ I’d appreciate it if you’d not use your past profession as an additional source of income.”

Charlotte leant forward, holding her dress closed with one hand as she began to talk.

“And if we have, um, gentleman callers?”

“I’d appreciate it if you would limit yourself to seeing him on your day off, and away from my house if he’s a pirate. Are these terms acceptable to you?”

Max nodded.

“Now when we reach the house, we’ll see about getting you three new clothes.”

Charlotte looked indignant, even as she had to pull one of the shoulders of her ‘gown’ up from where it was threatening to expose both of her breasts.

“What’s wrong with my old ones?”

“My dear, the only thing holding your dress closed at present is a very flimsy piece of cloth. I’d rather not imagine what might happen if you wore it while serving dinner.”

Idelle snorted and caught Miranda’s eye. More impressively, she held it effortlessly.

Miranda smiled at her and gestured for the ivory haired woman to join her on her own bench.

“It can’t be comfortable for you to be so crammed together. Don’t worry, I won’t bite if one of you wants to sit next to me.”

To no-one’s surprise, Idelle shuffled across to the other side of the carriage, looking at Miranda with an expression of tentative trust.

“You won’t make us fuck your husband, will you?”

A shadow crossed Max face, hidden so quickly behind a mask of calm composure that Miranda almost missed it. What sort of horrors could such a young girl have been subjected to, to be so expert at hiding her emotions?

“I assure you that this isn’t that sort of employ. My husband would never dream of laying hands upon you, and if any of the men in our service try to force themselves upon you, then we will make sure to terminate their employment immediately.”

They still looked sceptical as to the veracity of her words. She leant forward and took Max’s small hand in her own.

“The world is a cruel place. I am not so naïve as to try to deny that,” she smiled genuinely, and sighed out. “But I absolutely, without exception or hesitation, refuse to make the unkindness, the cruelty through either my actions or inaction. My house will be safe for you, for as long as you make it your home.”

Max breathed out and nodded. She pulled her hand out of Miranda’s and turned to Idelle.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Idelle smiled weakly and smoothed out her dress.

Miranda straightened up, leaning back to look at Idelle properly. She sighed as the pragmatic necessities of the situation became apparent to her.

“We haven’t discussed your wages yet, have we? I hate to ask, but did the brothel make any distinction in your pay based on age or experience?”

Max shook her head.

“Sometimes to think about something long enough to write it down is to acknowledge how vile it is.”

Idelle turned to look at her. “Look, for every dollar we made, Noonan was plenty happy to find a way to say we owed him five more in debt. We were fed, clothed, kept, but I wouldn’t ever say that we were paid. As long as you do that for us, fairly, I don’t care about extra wages for age or experience.”

“You never have to go back, Max, you never have to see Nassau town again if you don’t wish to,” Miranda sighed at how similar the look in her eyes was to poor James, “How old are you Max?”

“I turn sixteen in November, My Lady.”

Miranda closed her eyes, already planning the demise of the proprietor of the brothel.

“Am I correct in assuming that Eleanor specifically took the three youngest women in the brothel?”

She could feel Idelle nod beside her.

“I turned sixteen last week, and Charlotte’s turning nineteen in six weeks.”

“’Cept I don’t get many clients on account of one on the men on The Walrus liking me. He was sweet and didn’t hurt me none, but it made it harder to pay for my upkeep, you know?”

Miranda sighed again.

“I promise you that my house will be a place of safety for the three of you.”

The carriage stopped as they reached the mansion.


	4. Thomas I.

Thomas’ wig was making the back of his neck itch. It had only been a week in Nassau and already he had a good mind to throw the monstrosity into the Atlantic.

It was the third hour of his meeting with the Puritan preacher from the interior. The meeting had been scheduled to last for fifteen minutes.

“And furthermore, I must implore you to expel the many corrupt-”

“Pastor Lambrick, I assure you that I am working towards the betterment of Nassau. However, I have many, many other tasks that I need to see to before I can consider expelling farmers who charge too much for carrots.”

The sound of the carriage rolling towards the house interrupted their conversation.

Thank God.

Thomas raised a placating hand, and smiled as though he were the sympathetic sort, even though he wished for nothing more than to strangle the pastor.

“I’m afraid my wife has returned, and I’d not wish to embroil her in our business. One of my men will help you find your way out, Pastor.”

Thomas rose and nodded for one of the footmen to escort the pastor out. If all went well, he’d be able to avoid the man for at least another month.

James room was just a few doors down from his office, having been chosen specifically so that Thomas would be able to monitor his lover’s state of being at any time of day or night. The James who had been consigned to Bedlam would have hated the thought of being coddled; the James who had been brought out of it seemed too absent to care.

Thomas came to stand in front of it, placing one hand on the smoothly painted wood and resting his forehead against it.

As far as Thomas knew, James had not left the room since he had first entered in on their first day in Nassau. Thomas had not entered it himself, nor to the best of his knowledge had Miranda. In fact, their only assurance that the man they both loved most ardently was alive came from Minnie, who brought him his meals three times a day.

How desperately he wanted to push forward, and see his James, his heart, his truest love.

The front door opened, Miranda’s voice carrying up the stairs and breaking Thomas out of his reverie.

He spared a final look at James’ door and began to walk down the stairs.

The sight which greeted him was one of complete chaos. The sole maid who had followed them from London looked on in horror as Miranda gestured for three young women in various states of undress to enter into the foyer.

“It’s alright Minnie,” Thomas resisted the urge to smile as his wife turned to face him with a surprised expression, “I’m sure Lady Hamilton will have an excellent explanation.”

Miranda walked forward to the base of the stairs and frowned up at him in confusion.

“Thomas, I thought you to be away at the plantations this afternoon.”

Thomas walked down the stairs, laying a kiss on Miranda’s forehead when he reached her. “My last guest rather… overstayed. I’ll speak to them tomorrow and see to the Guthries the day after that. Are these the new maids?”

“They are, this is Charlotte, Idelle, and Max. Miss Guthrie provided me with three in place of two, which has made me think of some new duties for Minnie to undertake.”

Her eyes glimmered as she spoke. That, along with a quick flick of her eyes to the upstairs landing, gave Thomas little doubt as to what those new duties would be. Something in his gut clenched as he thought of them referring to James in such clandestine terms.

“You’re referring to the care of our Mr. Hamilton?”

Miranda stilled next to him for a second, only a trained eye would have been able to tell, her composure returning to her in a fraction of a second.

“I am. But perhaps this isn’t a discussion we should have until later, with him present.”

Thomas nodded, and then cast his eyes over to the new maids.

“I’m very pleased to welcome you all to my household,” he smiled softly, gently, as though he were trying to soothe an injured animal. I’m sure that it will be a very,” he exchanged a glance with Miranda struggling not to say something that would be taken the wrong way by the women he suspected to be formerly of the night.

Miranda sighed and smiled wearily. “A very interesting transitional period for us all.”

Thomas bit down on the grin that was threatening to form on his face.

“That’s exactly what I wished to say, as always, your eloquence astounds. Do you need me to help you with them, or will you be fine if I continue with my daily business?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” She pushed him away with a light, teasing hand on his chest.

Thomas kissed her lightly on the forehead again, then walked up the stairs, heading straight to the door to James room and smiling as he opened the door.

It fell from his face when he saw the state of James.

The tattered nightshirt, which had covered his back since he’d regained consciousness aboard their ship from Nassau, had been carefully folded and placed upon one of the luxurious chairs Thomas had chosen specifically for his comfort.

The bed was untouched.

James lay on the floor, his back to the door and his hands balled under his head. There was no mistaking the many marks on his back for anything other than three years of accumulated abuse.

A sense of wrongness curled in Thomas gut.

He backed out of the room, closing the door softly before he knocked sharply.

The sounds of James standing up and quickly pulling something over his head were audible through the door. Soft footsteps grew louder just before the door opened.

James appeared, his nightshirt now wore. He didn’t quite look Thomas in the eyes, instead staring a hole into his shoulder.

“I’ve finished early for the day, I thought that I might read to you if you weren’t too tired. I’ve found my Shakespeare collection, or if you’re in an adventurous mood, there is always Cervantes, or Milton if you’re in a philosophical mood, though I can profess no love for his works.”

James nodded, turning back and standing in his own peculiar way by the side of the bed, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with the bandages on his right.

It was the beginning of something good. Thomas smiled and approached carefully.

“Do you have any preferences my love?”

James shook his head, his fingers tracing the edges of his fraying bandages now.

“Maybe a sonnet then.”

James nodded again.

Thomas dared to reach forward with one hand. He brushed against James’ night-shirt, his fingers twisting the thin fabric around as he led the ginger towards one of the chairs near the closed window.

“I might let the breeze in if you’d not mind it. I find my regular clothing quite stifling here.”

James kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Thomas could see how much effort was going into him staying perfectly still, how hard he was trying into not give any hint of provocation. He sighed and pulled the wig off, leaning back and unlatching the window before he began to speak.

“You know, I was wearing this wig when we met. It’s a miracle that you didn’t turn tail at the sight of it,” he huffed out a laugh, placing it on the arm of the chair before he turned back to face James, “I know it has been a rough few years, but things will get better.”

James didn’t quite look up, nor did he reciprocate the touch properly. Instead he brought his left hand up to trace the gold thread that embroidered Thomas’ coat. Thomas shrugged it off of himself, laying the fabric on James lap.

“We have three new maids, of Nassau all of them, dinner tonight should be quite entertaining, if you’d like to join us, I’m sure you’d be entertained.”

James froze again.

Thomas cursed himself internally and cringed.

“If you would like to stay in your room, Minnie can see to you.”

James nodded and resumed tracing the gold brocade of Thomas’ cursed coat.

“Whatever you want, James, whatever you need. I will be happy to provide.”

James sighed heavily and turned away from Thomas to look out the window. The sunlight made his hair shine, the copper threads looking like a burning halo which encircled the slightly younger man’s head.

But, for all the beauty the light illuminated, there was sorrow too, to be found.

In the light there was no hiding from the fact that there were marks upon that beautiful, once familiar face. There was no hiding from the fact that where his cheeks had once been full, they were now gaunt even with a beard covering them. There was no hiding from the fact that the barely concealed playfulness that Thomas fell in love with had been replaced with a weary, almost fearful, caution that seemed exhausting to maintain.

Thomas sighed and placed the book of sonnets to the side, fully directing his attention to James. “I’m sorry that it took so long, my love, to see you free of that place. Know that I wish to see you happy and by my side, however long that might take.”

James nodded, his eyes still not reaching Thomas as he bored a hole into Thomas’ shoulder with the intensity of his gaze.

Thomas extended his hand, stopping just shy of James’ cheek. Miranda might have chided him for his boldness, especially now, when James seemed so fragile, but some part of him needed James to know he was not now and never would be alone.

James leaned into the touch.

All things considered it had been three years since Thomas had properly touched James. The small nudges he had bestowed on him whilst they were aboard the ship didn’t count, having been entirely perfunctory, and devoid of tenderness.

But this?

For a split second, Thomas forgot their surroundings and all that mattered to him was that James had finally conjured up enough trust to allow this sort of intimacy. The ginger’s eyes closed, and he sighed a little happy thing as he leaned further into Thomas’s hand.

It was not the most comfortable of touches, with the way that James’ scraggly beard scratched across the skin of his soft palm, and nor was it as romantic as many of their other touches had been in the past, but it was more than either of them had known in the past three years.

“Are you tired?” Thomas spoke softly as though not to shatter the perfect fragile moment.

James nodded, his eyes closed as Thomas stood, and pulled him to his feet.

They walked across the room and towards the bed slowly, Thomas gently nudging James forward when he stilled a few steps short of it.

“I have some letters to write, I’ll fetch what I need, and you can sleep while I write them in here. Of course, only if I’m not overstepping.”

James shook his head, climbing onto the bed before he opened his eyes and fixed them onto Thomas’s shoulder.

The blonde’s breath hitched as James reached forward with his left hand to stroke along the blade of his right.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

It was only a matter of time before Thomas had collected all of the things that he needed to write the necessary correspondences to his peers and the sea-lords in London, as well as to Peter Ashe, who had become Governor of the Carolina colony only a few years before.

James watched him enter the room again from the bed. Thomas smiled, relieved to find that James hadn’t consigned himself to the floor for a second time that day, and that he still wore his nightshirt.

“Rest darling, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

James was still awake as Thomas began to write his correspondence. While he still didn’t meet Thomas’ eyes with his own, James seemed more at ease than he had when Thomas had first walked into the room.

“Miranda has hired three maids. I must confess that I didn’t quite catch their names, I was quite shocked by their appearances,” Thomas put his quill aside and turned to face James properly. “If we were in London, and my father were still alive, I imagine that there’d be quite the outrage.”

James hummed curiously. Thomas smiled ruefully.

“He’s dead. At first, Miranda and I thought we might be able to reason with him, secure your release without any need for violence, but unfortunately, he proved to be most obstinate when he came to you.”

Thomas sighed and looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric near James’ leg as he thought over how to explain himself properly, without becoming a monster in James’ eyes.

“Somehow, he realised just how important you were to me and Miranda. He discovered that you could be used as a very effective threat, and once that became apparent, it was impossible to secure your release,” Thomas frowned and stopped, returning to his writing.

James put his hand on Thomas’, forcing the very surprised Lord Hamilton to look at him directly. Their eyes still didn’t meet, but the curiosity on James’ face was clear.

Thomas laughed.

“Shakespeare would have been more coherent, from a narrative standpoint,” he placed one hand on James’ covered leg, leaning forward slightly. “I played the part of the dutiful son, did as he bid, argued for his causes, and then when I finally found myself entrusted with the future of New Providence I ensured that he would never meddle in my affairs again.”

He sighed.

“I have not managed to divine whether I should call myself hero or villain of this particular tale. I don’t even know if my intentions at the very least were good.”

James took his hand again, the rough fingers of his left hand rubbing over the soft skin of Thomas’ palm.

Thomas allowed himself to close his eyes. If he ignored the different birdcalls coming from outside the open window, he could almost imagine that they were back in London, that he had decided to dedicate himself to both his work and James at the same time.

He opened his eyes and smiled at James.

“You have always been far more rational than I, my love,” Thomas breathed before he continued. “I was not able to secure the pardons, even in peacetime, I fear they would have been a hard sell. Our original plan, the one we fought so hard to see born into the world is dead.”

James hummed in concern. Thomas nodded.

“But, my love, we will see Nassau liberated. We will see New Providence made stable again. We’re just going to do it in a more unconventional manner than we once envisioned,” he sighed happily. “You see my dear, I intend on fully and permanently handing this Island over to the pirates.”


	5. James II.

For the most part before his day spent with Thomas, James had lived a solitary existence in the Governor’s mansion.

The window had been his only entertainment, and the garden visible through it had been dull.

But on the day Thomas came, there was new life in the house, and in the garden too.

He didn’t know the names of the three maids who had been hired by Miranda, so he’d taken to referring to them by nicknames once he saw them relaxing in the garden. The sole blonde had been dubbed Helen, while the pale brunette was Andromache, and the youngest one among them was Hecuba. They had all congregated in the garden shortly before he had gone to bed one night, and he'd taken the opportunity to study them.

As far as he knew, Hecuba was the only one who knew of his existence. After Thomas left him to go to dinner, she had gone into the garden and walked for a few minutes. She had looked up at him, smiled and waved.

Hecuba had nodded, deciding to ignore him after that.

The doctor came the day after his time spent with Thomas.

On the first day, the doctor had not been kind, and this had worried James.

However, he knew that Thomas and Miranda only wanted the best for him, so he did not protest when the doctor instructed him to move from the bed and told him that he should not partake of something so soft and comfortable.

He had followed the man’s instructions when he’d been ordered to close all the windows, and draw the blinds, and he had slept that night on the floor.

That night he dreamt of the day they had taken him to Bedlam and the weeks that had followed.

_Hennessy’s eyes had been solemn as they had walked towards the admiral’s office. As was usual for many personal interactions between James and another person, he had misunderstood the mood of the conversation._

_He hadn’t noticed Alfred Hamilton’s goons waiting behind him until it was far to late to offer up anything other than a token show of resistance._

_All that he’d been able to think of was how warm Thomas and Miranda had been in their shared bed that morning. How sweet their kisses had been as he had dressed, how wide their smiles had been when he’d promised to return with the Navy’s approval for the pardons._

_The memories had been but a cold comfort by the second day, after he’d been subjected to a haircut, an ice-bath and a bleeding._

_The worst part had been that the doctors genuinely believed that they were helping him._

_He had waited for the first Sunday of his imprisonment, knowing that it was the day that the general public was permitted to visit the inmates._

_No-one came for him._

_No one came for him the next Sunday, or the one after that, or the one after that._

_By the time he had spent a month in Bedlam, he had thoroughly given up on a rescue attempt._

He woke screaming.

On the second day, the doctor had not been kind, and this had worried James.

However, he knew that Thomas and Miranda only wanted the best for him, so he did not protest when the doctor instructed him to do away with his blankets and told him that the warmth was not something that he was deserving of.

He had followed the man’s instructions when he’d been ordered to avoid rich foods, and only take the smallest rations of water, and he had returned most of his dinner tray to Minnie when she came to take it.

The second night he dreamt of the day that he had stopped being able to speak.

_It had been about a year, by James’ reckoning. They seemed to shave the male inmates on a quarterly basis, and his fourth shave had only been a few days ago._

_At first he had tried to reason with his captors, to use logic and reason to convince him that he had nothing to be ashamed of._

_That had lost him the right to a meal every day._

_Even while he had been delirious with hunger, he had still refused to let them convince him that what he had done was wrong. He would never be convinced that Love was a sin, and nor could he betray his memory of Thomas to such a degree to pretend to agree with them._

_That had brought the beatings down upon him._

_They were well hidden of course, never done in view of the doctors or the general public, but nearly every day he found himself being assaulted by the orderlies who had been tasked with his care. He had tried to defend himself, first with reason, and then with his fists._

_That had just made the treatments crueller._

_The ice baths came every week rather than every month; they bled him until he could barely move in the name of making him more docile; the denied him food in an effort to balance his humours._

_Somewhere along the way, his once fiery retorts faded to one word answers to simple grunts._

_He didn’t notice that he had lost the ability to speak entirely until after one particularly bad day, when after receiving a particularly bad beating he’d tried to pray._

_The Lord’s Prayer could not be coaxed from his throat no matter how hard he had tried._

He woke screaming.

On the third day, the doctor had not been kind, and this had worried James.

However, he knew that Thomas and Miranda only wanted the best for him, so he did not protest when the doctor instructed him to turn his thoughts to the lord, and to divert his mind from the fanciful ideas that Thomas had filled his mind with.

But he did not follow the man’s instructions when he’d been ordered to repent his sins because he knew he had committed none.

He had not flinched away when the man had raised his hand, fully prepared to take whatever punishment the man saw fit to dole out. He had taken the cruel beating, and had not flinched away when the man had reached for one of his medical tools and raised his hand as though to strike James with it.

And then Miranda had rushed in, dressed in a fierce red dress which only served to enhance the power of her fury as she banished the doctor, and chased him out of the room.

James grabbed the fallen tool, holding it out in front of him to protect himself, even as his mind hurtled across the Atlantic back to his cell in Bedlam, where he had been berated daily for not only laying with a man, but also for daring to look above his station in his choice of partner.

He had barely registered Thomas, only realising that he was there when his body involuntarily moved to chase him away. Even that recognition was only a fleeting thing, his mind going someplace safe and quiet and warm, even as he felt his body being moved to the bed, and food being given to him.

In truth, he didn’t know how many hours or days even had passed until he came back to himself, only noting that it was dark and the candles in the room had been lit. Looking at his hands revealed that someone must have tended to him, the bandages on his right hand considerably less voluminous than they had been before.

He startled as the door opened, flinching back as Hecuba entered with a tray of food and a small smile on her face. She walked forward, placing it on the bedside table and turning to face him.

“You have been asleep since yesterday afternoon, Lady Hamilton bids you eat.”

James nodded, fumbling with the tray when it became apparent his right hand wasn’t quite strong enough to carry the tray to sit on his lap. Hecuba smiled, lifting the tray herself and placing it on his lap.

“My friend, Idelle, one of the maids here, made this soup just for you.” She took the spoon and dipped it into the soup, blowing over it before she offered it to James. “So you must eat as much as you can, if only for her sake.”

James nodded, allowing her to spoon the soup into his mouth until he could hear the spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl.

Hecuba smiled at him, placing the tray to the side of the bed, and leaning forward slightly before she began to rearrange the covers. “My name is Max. Lady Hamilton has said that you are to be called Mr. Hamilton, if you have no objections.” James nodded at her. She stood to leave, picking up the tray and nodding back at him before she moved to leave.

He could not help the desperate little whimper that escaped from him when she reached the door. He had been alone with his thoughts for three years and would not care to be alone with them even for another minute.

Max turned slightly, nodding down to the tray and smiling at him gently.

“I can return, after I’ve taken this to the kitchen. Would you like me to bring you something? A book, or some ices?”

James grunted. Max smiled at him amusedly, pausing for a moment before she turned to him. “A book? I am lettered you know, I could read to you if you wished me to.”

James nodded eagerly, smiling at her tentatively when she took the tray and left the room. It seemed that he was on the path to making a friend on the Island, which could prove to be very helpful if there was to be another doctor like the last.

His small smile disappeared, replaced by a frown as he tried to parse some sort out of meaning out of the many contradictory events that had occurred in such a small space of time. Thomas had secured his release from Bedlam, but had also entrusted a man who would have been comfortable there with his health. Miranda had chased the offending physician out of his rooms, but otherwise was a complete ghost to him. Thomas had professed the desire to remain by his side, but was absent for so much of the time.

James knew not what to think of this utterly confounding situation.

Max returned after a few minutes, holding a battered copy of _The Iliad_ in her hands.

“I do not know this text, but if the cover is to be an indicator, it seems well loved. Have you read it before?”

James nodded, moving slightly when Max sat down next to him on the bed, opening the cover and smiling at him as she looked at the type-face on the front page. “I have always wanted to read the classics, unfortunately, Nassau is not well known for its supply of good books.”

James snorted, smiling timidly at the young maid as she sat like a proper lady and began to read.

“Sing, goddess of the anger of Achilleus…”

Eventually, Max left the room and James was left alone to his thoughts.

That night that James slept in the bed he dreamt of the day he’d thought was to be his last.

_They’d started to give him ice bath treatments on a daily basis now. He didn’t know why, as he’d ceased trying to give them a fight long before one of the orderlies had broken his right hand after he’d thrown up on them following a dose of purgatives._

_While they’d seen fit to give him a blanket, he had no time to recover between the treatments, especially without any food to bolster his spirits or his health._

_Already he could feel himself slipping away. Sometimes he’d close his eyes in the middle of the day only to open them when the sun had disappeared and there was nothing to see through the darkness. Breathing was getting more and more difficult; some days he’d find that every breath felt like knives were being scraped along his lungs, on others no matter how deeply he breathed he could not get enough air._

_No, it was quite apparent that his time on this earth was coming to its end._

_He’d made his peace, he was ready to go._

_He only wished that he could have seen Thomas and Miranda again._

_The sounds of the orderlies coming towards his cell had woken him up with the dawn._

_The door opened._

_He sighed._

_They had come for him, strange men he had never seen before._

He woke screaming.

* * *

The next morning was terrifying in the lack of certainty James had for the future. Minnie came in the morning to open the blinds while Max brought his breakfast tray, sitting with James and proudly informing him that she had been appointed to take care of him by Lord Hamilton himself.

Despite his conflicted feelings about the governor of New Providence Island, he smiled at her enthusiasm, and the way in which she detailed her plans for the day.

“We are not to be entertaining any company while Lord Hamilton travels into town to conclude a long-fought argument with the Guthries, so the whole house is to be at our disposal. If you wear a jacket it is even warm enough for you to take some air in the gardens.”

James assented to the plan with a short nod of his head, gesturing for Max to leave whilst he dressed himself.

It had been several days since he had removed his nightshirt under his own steam, and as such was quite shocked when he caught a glimpse of his scarred back in one of the mirrors.

It had three long gashes running from his shoulders to his hips, each of them ugly and corded, and still painful to the touch as he traced his fingers along the tops of them. The exact cause of the beating had been lost to the sands of time, even as the punishment lingered on.

He caught his own gaze in the reflection and snapped himself out of his over serious trance. It would not do to delay Max in her pursuit of a perfectly lovely day.

He quickly dressed, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor to avoid being caught up in his own thoughts again.

Max greeted him with a delighted gasp as he stumbled out into the hallway, clapping her hands delightedly when he managed to take two steps without leaning on the walls or furniture.

“Every day you are growing stronger Mr. Hamilton, now, why don’t we start in the garden, and then when the heat of the day grows, we travel indoors, and continue the tale spoken by Homer so many years ago?”

James grinned, walking beside her as they slowly made their way along the hallway, occasionally pausing to catch his breath before they reached the top of the stairs.

Max took hold of his arm, holding him steady as he leaned against the banister and they made their way downstairs.

Evidently, Max had planned for the day a while in advance, a table and chairs set up for them just a few feet away from the library doors.

It was the beginning of a truly wonderful day.

It had made James smile, even as he considered how to avoid his nightmares that night.

On the fourth night he decided to sleep on the floor once again.


	6. Miranda II.

Miranda had been woken by James’ screaming for three nights in a row. Generally speaking, by the time she had roused Thomas and was ready to go to soothe him, the screaming would have stopped, and neither she nor her husband would know whether their presence would provide comfort or distress him further. This idea had not been dissuaded by the physician.

Miranda’s first act after chasing the dreadful doctor out of her house and, hopefully, off of New Providence Island, had been to find out exactly how someone so vile could have come so highly recommended.

She had been surprised by Peter Ashe’s name on the letter of recommendation, but on reflection it had been almost inevitable that there should be some support for Alfred Hamilton, even after he was dead and buried. After all, she had only started hearing the many innuendos and cruel jabs from her social peers after Peter had been introduced to James.

She did not have enough time to do much else that day, other than inform Thomas of the loss of a once powerful ally.

That night, she was not roused from her sleep by any sort of screaming, but rather by the lack of it. A quick glance to the clock in their bedroom revealed that the time was one in the morning, an hour past when James had roused the entire house with his screaming the last three nights.

Something was wrong.

She shook Thomas awake, tying a dressing gown around her nightdress before she walked out of her bedroom and towards James’ bedroom, conveniently located between their bedroom and Thomas’ office.

Thomas, despite being sleepy, was right behind her as she pushed the door open.

While the sight that greeted them was nowhere near as lethal as they had worried, it was no less heartbreaking.

James appeared to be in a daze, his eyes half closed as he leant against the side of his bed, his legs splayed out in front of him.

Miranda walked forward slightly, kneeling in front of him with a small smile. “James, dear, would you like to come to bed with us?”

James startled, twitching away from them, his hands coming up in an abortive gesture to defend himself. His eyes, suddenly wildly alert, darted between her and Thomas.

Miranda leaned towards him, her hands held out for him to hold should he so choose. “There’s more than enough room for you, and I’m sure that it would be far more comfortable than sitting here on the floor.”

James nodded, leveraging himself up onto his feet using the bed.

Thomas, who had been more or less still while Miranda had spoken walked forward and offered his arm.

James took it, and Miranda breathed out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. The three of them walked slowly to the door, then into the hallway, and then towards the main bedroom. James, who despite all of his practice with Max seemed unused to walking for such a distance, stumbled a few times, but eventually they found themselves in front of the huge bed.

Miranda removed herself from James just enough to gesture to the bed. “Why don’t you take the middle, James? It’ll mean you don’t lose the covers.”

James stood, completely still at the sight of the bed.

“You can take as long as you need, darling, if you’d like us to take you back to your room then we can do that too.” Thomas extended his arm, his eyes catching Miranda’s as he stroked James’ arm.

James nodded once again, walking forward cautiously and stopping just short of the near side of the bed. He looked back at Miranda pleadingly. The emotion in his eyes was so foreign to her, nothing like the extraordinarily quick-witted lieutenant she’d known and loved three years before.

Miranda averted her eyes, taking hold of Thomas’ hand so that he would do the same. She listened to James scrambling into bed for a few seconds before she lifted her gaze to see him sitting awkwardly in the middle of the bed, fiddling with his hands in the way that he always had.

She smiled, pulling her dressing gown off and laying it over the back of one of her chairs. She smoothed an imaginary crease out of her nightgown before walking forward and taking her place to one side of James on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Thomas doing the same, both of them adjusting themselves until they were properly lying down with James snuggled between them.

James, for his part, seemed bewildered by the change in circumstances. He had allowed himself to be pulled down to lay between them, but as far as Miranda could see he had forgotten what he had done when he found himself in the same situation three years prior.

“It’s alright James, all you need to do is sleep.”

James nodded once, his gaze serious before he turned his head to face Thomas for a moment.

“I promise you, darling,” Thomas smiled, his voice warm, “we’ll still be here in the morning.”

James sighed, a small, almost happy thing, before he lay on his back and closed his eyes properly.

Miranda smirked over at Thomas before closing her eyes and letting herself drift to sleep for the second time that evening.

Miranda’s second order of business had been to organise a new doctor for James. It could not be someone from England, lest he be an ally of Ashe or the deceased Lord Hamilton.

She walked down the stairs the day after James came to sleep in hers and Thomas’ bed, smiling when she saw Charlotte in what she assumed was the girl’s best clothes readying herself before she left the house for the day.

“Are you going into Nassau town, Charlotte?”

The blonde turned to her and smiled, nodding as she opened the door.

“I thought I might visit some friends for my first day off.”

“I might join you, if you don’t mind. I have business in town, and it would make no sense to have you stuck on the back of the wagon when we could both use the carriage.” Miranda smiled and held out her arm, leading Charlotte out of the foyer and down the stairs.

Charlotte still seemed a little bit ill at ease in Miranda’s presence as they made their way into town, glancing out of the windows of the carriage as they passed through the narrow streets before stopping in front of the Guthrie tavern.

“I thought that Miss Guthrie might be able to pass on the name of a Doctor, even while she searches for a cook of good repute.” Miranda smiled, moving to get out of the carriage when she felt Charlotte’s delicate hand on her arm.

“I know that I owe her a great deal for finding me this job, but it’s a generally well-regarded fact that being in the debt of the Guthrie family isn’t a good idea.”

Charlotte followed her out of the carriage. She stood up fully, moving away from the tavern with a raised eyebrow. “If you follow me, you might be able to find something though.”

Miranda allowed Charlotte to lead her away from the buildings and towards the beach. The streets gave way to sandy alleys which wound through many haphazard arrangements of tents, each grouping huddled around a slightly larger tent or hut which had a flag flying above it.

Charlotte seemed to know her way around the beach settlement, leading Miranda past a few encampments until they reached one which flew a flag with a skeleton holding a cutlass and an hourglass.

“Do you mean to tell me that the best doctor on the island for this task is one of the fearsome pirates of Nassau?”

Charlotte turned shrugging at her before she turned back to look at the encampment, “I’m no expert on the topic of medicine, but I think if there’s anyone with experience in dealing with screaming men, it’d be a ship’s surgeon.”

“I’m not sure that I understand your logic there, Charlotte.”

The blonde turned back to face her with a rueful smile.

“When I did what I did, it was profitable, ’n sometimes a necessary skill for survival, to be able to read the men that came to my room.”

Miranda took a step forward, and placed a gentle hand on Charlotte’s arm.

“If this is too difficult to speak about-”

“No,” Charlotte shook her head. “What I mean is, you could tell which crews were taken care of, which ones weren’t. And it’s not the Captain taking care of them, it’s not the Quartermaster holding their nightmares at bay. It’s the Doctor. And the men of the Walrus, they’re good to me, means that he was good to them.”

Miranda did not have the energy to fault that logic. She turned to look at the various men who were seated on the beach, none of them nearly so fierce as she would have expected from the stories James had told her. Maybe there was a grain of truth in what Charlotte was saying.

“Charlotte!”

Miranda turned, mentally taking back her previous thought as she saw a dark haired and rough-hewed man striding towards them. His face was drawn as he approached her eldest maid, slowing down and then stopping a foot away from her. The way he fiddled with his fingers belied his worry.

“I went to the inn, Noonan said you’d been taken. I thought-”

Charlotte stepped forward, placing one hand over the man’s lips, even as his arms came to rest on the small of her back. She smiled, Miranda feeling like a voyeur as the blonde beauty removed her hand and kissed the man sweetly on the mouth.

“I’m fine. Logan, I’m fine.”

Logan sighed deeply, kissing her on the forehead before his gaze flitted to Miranda.

“Who are you then?”

Miranda walked forward, resting her hands against her stomach before she began to speak. “I’m Miranda, Lady Hamilton, the Governor’s wife. I’m Charlotte’s new employer. She works as a maid in my household.”

“This isn’t a place for Governor’s wives.”

She frowned, “I assure you that I am not one to come here without business. I wish to make use of your ship’s doctor. I assume there is a Captain I should talk to about such business while you and Charlotte, um, celebrate your reunion.”

“In the big tent.” Logan turned back to Charlotte, his dismissal of her clear as his rough fingers came up to gently stroke through the delicate golden strands that had been carefully pinned to Charlotte’s skull, and as his tanned nose struck a great contrast against her pale skin as he pressed kisses against the line of her jaw.

Miranda walked alone to the slightly larger and better constructed tent, pausing only for a moment before she entered.

A man slightly older than herself, of a portly stature and without hair on his head, but an impressive moustache was seated at a wooden desk. He looked up at her as she allowed the light to filter in behind her and gestured for her to walk closer as he adjusted the spectacles on his nose.

“You are far to finely dressed to be one of Noonan’s girls,” he paused, removing his spectacles and placing them on top of a pile of navigational charts, “and far too unafraid of me to be one of the farmers in the interior. Hello, Lady Hamilton.” The northern accent flowed off his tongue like honey.

Miranda walked forward, gesturing to a crate adorned with a cushion in front of the desk, “May I sit? I would like to discuss business with you, and I’d prefer to be comfortable while I do so.”

“Of course, my lady,” he smiled, as she sat, “And what in particular is it that you’d like to discuss?”

“I find myself rather at a disadvantage, as you seem to know me when I know nothing of you bar your rank as captain.”

“My name is Hal Gates, and I am Captain of the Walrus. Who led you to me, specifically?”

“Charlotte.”

“I’m glad to hear that she hasn’t been disposed of. Mr Logan is prone to worrying.” He poured a strong-smelling liquid from a bottle the colour of sea-glass, “And what business would you like to conduct with me?” His smile and tone were jovial, even as his eyes glinted dangerously.

“I understand that you have a doctor in your crew. I’d like to hire him and have him reside with my family for as long as you could possibly spare him.”

“My doctor is, as you can probably imagine, is quite vital to the running of my crew, why should I dispense with him at the request of a lady?”

“I can pay you, enough to make up for any losses that you might incur while you hunt without him.”

“How callous a captain you must think I am, that I would think my men replaceable by a sum of money.” He sipped the rum, wincing as he swallowed it.

“I can pay you not to hunt then. It is quite urgent that we have a doctor, and I trust no-one who comes from England.” She leaned forward, placing her hands atop the desk, “I assure you, I wish no harm to your men, no harm to your doctor, only to protect someone I love very dearly.”

Captain Gates smiled and placed his cup down on the desk.

“I cannot possibly offer you exclusive use of my doctor, no matter how much you offer as payment. However, if you can guarantee that wherever he is, we may find treatment, I might consider asking him to serve you.”

Miranda sighed. There was a very small part of her that wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her situation. Before meeting James and hearing of the situation in Nassau, if someone had told her that she would one day find herself negotiating with a pirate captain, she would have laughed them out of the house. As it was, she could barely resist the urge to giggle.

“I believe every man, woman and child in Nassau knows the location of the Governor’s Mansion, if your men have any need of the doctor’s services, then I will be more than happy to accommodate them, on the condition that they leave their weapons outside. Is this acceptable to you?”

Captain Gates nodded. He held out his hand and fixed Miranda with an unreadable gaze. “You seem an honourable and decent woman. You should know that your type does not often survive Nassau, nor her residents for long.”

Miranda stood, smiling as she placed her hands atop her stomach once more.

“I’ve survived High Society in London. Somehow, I think that having people who are open about wishing me harm will be a pleasant change. Thank you for your time Captain Gates.” She stood, walking towards the edge of the tent before pausing and looking back just as she reached the entrance, “Where might I find your man?”

Captain Gates smiled, standing and following her out of the tent and onto the sand. He surveyed his men on the beach for a few seconds before he fixed on one of them.

“Howell!”

A man with sandy brown hair turned to face them. Miranda had a good feeling about this.


	7. Thomas II.

Despite spending most of the night gazing at the slumbering form of James, Thomas found himself strangely invigorated as he began his day.

He woke to find James much calmed and dozing, his right hand on his own chest while his left brushed against the skin of Thomas’ cheek. It seemed that they’d both need a shave that morning, unless James was going to abscond to live in a cave in the Scottish Highlands.

Thomas pulled himself out of the bed, walking over to the door and asking one of the footmen to fetch some warm water and his razor.

James was beginning to stir as he walked back to the bed, pausing for a moment to appreciate how the morning light filtered through the bedroom windows and lit the copper strands of his lover’s hair.

“Good morning darling,” Thomas smiled as James opened his sharp green eyes, “I thought it might be time for a shave today.”

He sat next to James, letting the slighter shorter man leverage himself up into a sitting position before he started to talk again.

“Both of us look quite wild, and while it might help us with the pirates, it will not aid us in Whitehall to seem to have lost our sense of dignity,” he reached out, the tips of his fingers just brushing against James’ cheekbones. “My man is fetching us the water, and the razor, and just for you the shears.”

James might have smiled at that, but it was hard to tell under the beard.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the sound of the footman entering the room.

“Will you require my services, my lord?”

Thomas shook his head, worry seeping into his being as he saw James’ eyes become dull.

“No, I have enough sense to be able to shave myself, I’ll call for you when I’m finished.”

The man nodded and left, leaving the various shaving things on one of the many little tables scattered around the spacious room.

Thomas stood, approaching the tools and inspecting them as though he were a doctor preparing for surgery. “I’ve become quite competent in taking care of myself.” He turned back to James as he picked up the soap and the bowl of water in one hand and the scissors in the other, smiling softly despite the blankness in his lover’s face, “After you were taken, I could trust no-one, not even a valet. I had only Miranda by my side as we plotted my father’s downfall and your release”

James did not move.

Thomas walked towards the bed placing the bowl on his bedside table, while he brought one of the cloths from last night to cover James’ lap. He picked up the shears and began to cut away the long scraggly beard, revealing the shape of the former lieutenant’s chin in the process.

He began to shave, working as delicately as he could to prevent any discomfort to James. The ginger’s skin was warm under his touch, his pulse slow and relaxed as the green eyes bored through Thomas’ skin and into his soul. He worked quickly and effectively, wiping off the soapy remnants of the lather with a damp cloth.

He wondered if this was the most clean-shaven that James had been since he’d been taken to Bedlam, the thought of the so-called asylum sent a shudder down his spine as he picked up the shaving things and walked over to a mirror near the window.

He began to shave himself, staying silent in favour of focussing on the task. He could still see James in the mirror, the ginger touching his face with his left hand, the fingertips skittering over the now smooth skin with a sort of stunned wonder.

Thomas finished, wiping the lather away with the towel and returning to James’ side. He placed the shaving things back on the bedside table, climbing into the bed to sit next to James, a smile on his face when James looked at him in the eyes for the second time that day.

“We’ve engaged a proper physician for you, a man from the Island, he’s coming today.” He leant forward, brushing his nose against James’ for a brief moment before he leaned back enough to bring one hand up to James’ face. “You’ll be well again soon.”

James smiled and nodded. He raised his left hand again, resting it upon Thomas’ chest with a tentative smile.

“You are so very beautiful, James. And if I had the option, I would stay here with you all day, every day, until my last day, but unfortunately I am called on to oversee the re-establishment of an English colony in Nassau.”

He rolled out of bed, holding his arms out for James to take.

“Your doctor will see you in your room, my darling. Let me accompany you there.”

James grunted as he shuffled towards the edge of the bed, eventually getting out of the bed and stumbling into Thomas’ arms.

“Easy, your legs are still weak,” he leveraged James arm over his shoulders, holding onto it with his left hand while the right came to rest against James’ side while they walked towards the door. “I’m sure that the Doctor will be keen to help you regain the full use of your legs, but, for now, don’t overexert yourself.”

He could hear himself babbling, unwilling to let James’ newfound muteness to still their conversation, even as they struggled towards James room. He waved off the footman, gesturing for him to clear the shaving things before he pushed through James’ door and wobbled towards the bed.

James huffed out a laugh as they finally reached the bed, sitting back on it and smiling wryly at Thomas before he shuffled back towards the middle of the bed. He leaned against the pillows and let out a happy sigh as Thomas leaned over the bed and kissed him on the forehead.

“I’ll return in the evening, perhaps we can take dessert in your room.”

He walked to the door, sparing James a final glance before he left.

James looked back at him, looking comfortable for the first time in days.

It was a good beginning to the day.

The same could not be said of the rest. Thomas should have been administering Nassau. He should have been looking over the many correspondences that had been delivered to his home that day. He should have been working towards a treaty with the Pirates.

Instead he was daydreaming about James, and all the things he wished to say to him. There was a part of him, deep in his soul, that worried that James might never trust him again after the disastrous start to his life in Nassau.

Thomas looked up as he heard someone opening the door to his study, looking slightly puzzled as he saw Miranda return with a man dressed much like a pirate, a doctor’s satchel held in one hand. He stood and walked out from behind his desk.

“I take it this isn’t the cook.”

Miranda walked forward, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek before she turned to the man. “This is Doctor Howell, the ship’s doctor aboard the Walrus. I thought after our last physician was so… disappointing, it might be a good idea to look closer to home for the next one.”

Thomas walked forward and extended his hand. “Thank you for coming so promptly, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come so quickly. We’ve been here a week and we’re yet to get a cook.”

“Your wife is quite… convincing, my lord. I understand I’m to tend to one person in particular while I’m here?”

“Yes,” Thomas gestured to the hallway that held James' room, “I wouldn’t wish to disturb him at the moment, but I can tell you about his condition, if you’d like.”

Thomas gestured for his new employee to take a seat opposite him at the desk. “I’m sorry for the mess, I’m afraid I’m quite behind in my work here.”

Miranda smiled and turned to Dr. Howell. “There are some things that you should know before you treat James. First, and most important is that we love him very much. And have done so in the biblical manner.”

“If you think I’m shocked, you should know that I’ve worked upon a pirate ship. There is very little that surprises me anymore.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head amusedly before he began to speak.

“James was wrongly imprisoned in Bedlam for three years. I’m afraid that it has affected him quite significantly. It is my hope, and the hope of my wife that you’ll be able to aid him in his recovery to a point where he’ll be able to take care of himself to some degree.”

Doctor Howell moved uncomfortably in his seat, looking at Thomas with a confused expression. “I’m not sure I understand. Has he been that severely incapacitated by his time in the asylum?”

Thomas shook his head, “He has nightmares every night that he sleeps, and has lost the ability to talk. On a physical level, he’s spent three years without adequate food supplies, and his right hand…”

Miranda sighed looking Thomas in the eye and shaking her head.

Thomas stood, walking over to Howell and looking him straight in the eye. “I have no illusions about him returning to the man he once was. I simply want to ensure that he is comfortable, and that he knows that he is safe here.

Howell nodded, standing and walking to the door. “I’d like to see my patient now.”

Thomas nodded. He helped Miranda to her feet and gestured to Doctor Howell to follow him to the door. “He’s in his bedroom,” they walked into the hallway. “I’d appreciate it if you would do your best not to scare him, he’s had a rough few days.”

Howell nodded as they walked towards the bedroom. He stepped ahead of Thomas and Miranda and walked forward into the room. Miranda took a few steps inside with him, while Thomas stayed at the door, out of the sight of James.

He watched as James, who had been sitting at the window, stood, and let his gaze drift to Miranda in question. The youngest of their new maids sat with him, a book in her hand.

“This is the new doctor James. He lives in Nassau.”

Howell walked forward, stopping a few feet short of James.

“I’m Doctor Howell, I’m the ship’s doctor aboard The Walrus. I’m looking forward very much to getting to know you better. I’ve been told that your name is James, may I call you that?”

James’ gaze had not moved from Miranda, but he seemed to understand, nodding before he turned back to the window. Thomas could not see his face from the door, and the desperation to see those green eyes again drove him forward, into the room and towards James.

He stopped just short of the window, slightly forward of Miranda and Howell. The maid who had been with James for the whole day stood just ahead of him, turning to stare at him with her dark eyes. She held her arm out, motioning for him to stand beside her but walk forward no further.

“We’ve spent the day cataloguing the various blooms in the garden from afar. We though we might borrow a tome on the subject from the library later, if you have no objections?”

Thomas smiled as his truest love turned to face him. “Is that what you would like, James?”

James nodded once, and then brushed against Thomas’ outstretched hand with his own.

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t realise he had been holding in. He stepped forward, his fingers dancing across the petals of the flower as he assessed James’ state.

It was a perfect moment even as Howell stepped forward.

“I’d like to assess Mr. Hamilton’s health today, so I can come up with a plan for treatment.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Thomas smiled. “How might I help?”

Howell sighed and grimaced. “I appreciate your concern for Mr. Hamilton, but I must insist that you let me attend to him alone.”

Thomas frowned, “Is that entirely appropriate?”

“Your maid can remain in the room if you would like, however, it’s my responsibility as a doctor to give him the best treatment possible. For now, I would like to see him without your interference.”

Miranda grabbed Thomas’ arm before he could protest. “Max will stay. Thomas, I’m sure that we can find something to do before dinner.”

She led him out of the room and towards her downstairs parlour. “It’s a good thing that he wants to make sure James isn’t being harmed by us. It means that he’s going to do a good job, and Max will tell us if he even steps a toe out of line.”

Thomas allowed himself to be sat down at Miranda’s table where a fresh pot of tea was waiting for them, rolling his eyes at the exaggerated way in which Miranda presented herself as a genteel lady.

“Your father would be delighted, wouldn’t he?” she poured the tea, meeting his eyes whilst pouring the tea perfectly, “To see me acting so perfectly like the wife of a governor.”

“I’m sure that he would,” Thomas sighed, ignoring his cup even as Miranda began to sip at hers, “I thought that our problems might end with him. I suppose that I’ve always been woefully naïve.”

“It takes a special sort of man to see the world as it should be, rather than how it is.” His beautiful wife leaned forward and took his hand firmly in hers.

He sighed

“I’m sorry for dragging you through these last three years Miranda. If I had listened to you when you erred caution, he might not have been condemned.”

“Yes. Most definitely, but what’s done is done, and cannot be undone. I was angry with you for a time, for a long time, but now?” She shook her head, “You are trying to fix your mistakes now. That is what is important.”

Thomas frowned, “I thought you were going to leave, for a time after James was taken, you seemed so withdrawn, you flinched away from my touch, from my voice.”

Miranda frowned, placing her tea-cup down before she began to speak, her voice soft, “I’ll admit for a time, I entertained the possibility of disappearing into the ether.”

“What stopped you?”

“One day, one of the worst, your father had just visited, I saw you in your office. I wondered what you were doing, what you were thinking and if I would ever know and love you so well as I had done before James had been taken from us.”

“And then?”

“You were reading our copy of Don Quixote, the one you had rescued from James’ lodgings when you tried to head him off before he could meet with Hennessy. You were crying. And in that moment, that singular moment, I realised just how deeply affected we both were by the loss of James. And then, that night you came to me, and said that you wanted to see your father burn.”

“And so you forgave me?”

“No. I watched you destroy everything your father had made. It was then that I forgave you,” she sighed as she picked up her tea-cup and brought it to her lips. "James will be well again, just give him time."

Thomas nodded and began to sip at his tea.


	8. James III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There might be a slight slowing down of updates after this one because I'm going away, and internet access will not be a guaranteed thing.
> 
> We're barely more than halfway through this thing though, so don't worry, I'm not going to stop permanently.
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you guys, and I hope you enjoy the update

The new doctor was kind and gentle, and for this James was grateful.

Max had come to sit next to him when Miranda and Thomas had left and held his left hand as Howell unwrapped the bandages on his right. The young girl smiled at him even as he winced and gripped her hand tightly as Howell began his examination, prodding at his hand expertly.

“You’re very lucky Mr. Hamilton, that your fingers aren’t too crooked. If you do as I ask you, you should regain close to full use of the hand in time.” The doctor smiled, turning his attention to Max for a moment. “Are you responsible for his welfare?”

“I am his maid, yes.”

“If you could soak his right hand in warm water tonight, and then help him to curl his fingers, even slightly, it will help greatly.”

James frowned and looked down at his completely ruined hand. The orderlies in Bedlam had been so sure that they had managed to completely deprive him of its use, and now that certainty was also a lie? Wasn’t it more likely that he was being treated by another charlatan who wanted to do him harm?

Max caught James eye, and read the worry there.

“Will it hurt?”

Doctor Howell looked James straight in the eye and smiled. “You may feel some discomfort, the muscles have not been used that much of late, and so your fingers will be stiff, but if you feel any sharp pain, stop, and tell me immediately.”

James smiled and nodded.

“I’m afraid the only way your legs will recover completely is if you use them regularly. I’d suggest that you take advantage of the weather and walk outside some. The air will do you good. Nassau has many beautiful blooms that you might never have seen in the Old World.”

James nodded.

Max leaned forward, “The Governor told you of Mr. Hamilton’s nightmares, non?”

“He did,” Howell sighed, “I fear that there is very little that I can do to ease them before you’ve regained your speech. If they get particularly bad, I have a small supply of opium, but I’d rather reserve that for emergencies.”

James frowned and turned to Max.

“Mr. Hamilton is confused, as he has not spoken a word in all the time he has been on the Island, and even some time before then.”

Howell sighed, nodding his thanks at Max before looking James straight in the eye. “I’ve treated many men who have experienced great pain, and loss, and torture. Many of them found themselves without a voice for some time, and of those, all of them, to a man, eventually recovered it.”

James’ frown deepened, even as Howell’s smile widened.

“Yes, Mr. Hamilton, we will have you talking again before long. It will take some work on your part. Tonight, when you are alone, I want you to try to make a sound, any sound you can think of, and then tomorrow, you can show me.”

Howell stood, smiling at James in a way that seemed to be genuine.

“I’m staying in the house, so if you have need of me, you may call on me at any hour. I think that you’ve had enough exercise for today, though if you’d like to spend time outside, you could sit, and be careful not to burn in the sun.” He nodded at both James and Max, then left without commotion.

Miranda came to see James that evening, and for this he was grateful.

She entered near to the time when he would normally prepare for bed, while he and Max were sitting on the lone love-seat in the room, doing as the doctor had bid him.

She was clad in her favourite green dress and held a book in her hand as she entered the room. Max had just finished helping him to move the fingers of his right hand and was wiping the excess moisture away from his fingers as Lady Hamilton entered.

“I thought I might sit with James for a while tonight Max. I believe that Charlotte has returned from town with gifts for you, I’m sure that she’d love to have some time to talk to you.”

Max nodded, wiping the last of the water off the palm of his hand before she stood and made a shallow curtsey. She gave James one last smile before she left, leaving him and Miranda alone in the room.

“I wanted to check that you were alright after your day with Doctor Howell,” his lovely companion walked forward, sitting next to him on the chair with a smile in her eyes, “He seems very genteel for a pirate, don’t you think?”

James nodded, reaching for the tome she held in her hand, smiling as he saw the bard’s name in gilded letters on its green leather spine.

“It seemed appropriate, given our circumstances. If you don’t mind, I thought that I might read to you. I can help you into bed if you’d like.”

James nodded, standing on his own, and walking slowly but surely over to his side of the bed. Miranda followed him a few steps behind, only touching him when he began to levy himself into the bed. Her hands ghosted over his skin as she brought the covers up over his legs and stomach.

“I thought that you deserved an explanation of what was going on, why Thomas has seemed absent, and why your former doctor did you great harm.” She laid the book down and covered his right hand with her left one, “Before you were taken, we were betrayed by a friend who had managed to extrapolate your and Thomas’ relationship from your public interactions. For the last three years, we didn’t know who it was.”

James nodded, looking Miranda straight in the eye, despite the difficulty it presented him. He brought his left hand up to her shoulder, doing his best to reassure her as she took a few calming deep breaths.

“Your last physician was highly recommended by Peter Ashe. He was made Governor of the Carolina colony a few months after you were taken from us. If I had known that he had been the one to betray us before now, I never would have hired that doctor.” She paused, brushing some hair away from his forehead with her right hand. “I never want you to fear that my love has diminished for you in the time you were away, or that I will ever treat you with anything other than the utmost care.”

James opened his mouth, closing his eyes as he willed his body to obey him.

“Mi.”

He opened his eyes as he felt Miranda press her lips to his forehead. She pulled away and smiled at him, before picking up the play.

“You know I was named for the main character in this play.”

James smiled and nodded, leaning against her side as he waited for her to begin reading. If he fell asleep shortly after Miranda began to read, well, that was no-one’s concern.

Thomas came to James’ room early the next morning, and for this he felt an extraordinary sense of trepidation.

For the first time in three years, Thomas was dressed as a lord should be, not only in a wig, but also in fine clothes that must have been stifling in the Caribbean environment, even in the relative cool of January.

Despite his finery, Lord Hamilton didn’t seem to be his typical confident self. He held his head high, but his shoulders drooped slightly, and his eyes were uncertain.

“Hello James,” he hovered nervously by the door, “may I come in?”

James nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He gestured for Thomas to follow him as he walked towards the window seat, frowning slightly when Thomas stopped short of the chair, holding his hands behind his back like a proper navy man.

“Some important men are visiting the house today, from Her Majesty’s Navy. I know that among them will be some of your former superiors. They should only be here for a few hours, but while they are here, I think it might be a good idea for you to avoid the garden. I expect that some of the lower ranked officers might be in the library, and I don’t want you to find yourself in an awkward position if they recognise you.”

James looked down, his eyes burning as he felt his shoulders curl in on themselves. How was it that someone who had once proudly instructed him to know no shame was now displaying a surplus for it.

“I’m sorry. James, I swear, I promise you, this was never meant-”

James breathed out, looking up at Thomas with a sad expression on his face. He needed some space, even if it did rip out his heart in the doing so.

“Out.”

Thomas took a few steps back, as if he’d been struck by a blow, rather than a single word.

“I’m sorry James, I’m so sorry.”

Thomas left.

James could not say how long he stayed on the seat by the window. Max came into the room with his breakfast tray, smiling softly at him with sad eyes.

“The Governor has told me that there will be guests today. I thought, then, you might like to see what my part of the house looks like. I will be helping Idelle with the preparation of the luncheon, and I thought you might like to see the kitchen. And if you want to go outside, Charlotte can take you out to the hidden part of the garden, where she normally puts out the laundry.”

James smiled, standing and walking over to his breakfast table. Max followed him over to the table sitting next to him and stealing a piece of toast from the tray.

“it will be a good day today, I think.”

James nodded.

He began to eat his breakfast, smiling at Max as she continued to sneak portions of his breakfast off of the plate and into her mouth. After a few minutes spent like this, Max turned to face him, her expression playful as she brought him some simple clothes to wear for the day.

“Mah?”

Max smiled. “I have a very busy day ahead of me. It’s very important that we begin to work as soon as possible.”

James nodded and allowed Max to help him pull his shirt on, though, he noted with a vicious sense of satisfaction, he was perfectly capable now of tying the strings of his pants closed. A quick glance in the mirror revealed him to look like a simple merchant, rather than a former Navy man, but it was a far cry from the madman that Bedlam had turned him into.

Max helped to straighten out his shirt before leading him out of the room and towards the servant’s quarters. The two of them took great delight in sneaking down the servant’s stairs, James feeling about as mature as a schoolboy when they finally reached the kitchen, both of them stifling giggle when Idelle looked at them with pure exasperation.

“There’s potatoes to be peeled still.”

Max seemed to bristle slightly at being ordered about but took the knife and sat next to the pile of potatoes in the corner without a fuss. James, for a lack of better task to do, followed Max and sat down next to her.

“Have you done this before, James?”

James nodded, picking up a potato and gesturing for Max to hand him the knife. He could feel Idelle in the background, and could imagine the look of exasperation in her eyes as she went about the difficult task of hauling a leg of lamb from the meat safe to the central table.

This time it was Max who stood and began to aid Idelle in her task. The two of them looked at the cut of meat in befuddlement, even as Idelle took the cleaver and looked as though she was going to start cutting at random.

James made a noise in the back of his throat, putting the potato and the knife at the top of the pile of potatoes. He looked at the raven-haired and ivory skinned maid with concern before he held out a hand for the knife.

Idelle snorted and then held it out to him. “Go on, if you end up killing us all, at least we don’t have to cook this.”

James took the knife, and made a point of deliberately pointing out the parts of the leg that he was cutting at. He smiled as he felt his hands being used properly again, as he felt for the first time in many years that there was a place which he could occupy and feel whole in. Once, the meat was free of the bone he turned to Idelle.

“What?”

Idelle smiled and seemed to understand him. “We’re making a stew, I know how to make better, but Lord Hamilton said he wanted to keep them on the back foot.”

James smiled and started to dice the meat. Idelle took over half-way through, and as Max had taken over the job of peeling potatoes, James felt bereft of purpose once again.

A small, soft hand pulled on his arm, and he turned to see a very concerned Charlotte looking at him.

“Would you be able to help me with the laundry Mr. Hamilton? I wouldn’t ask, but I’d like to be able to help with serving lunch, and if I don’t get this done quickly, there’s a good chance it won’t get done.” She smiled slightly as she finished talking,

James nodded and followed her outside and into the small servants’ garden, where the house’s linen was drying under the hot Caribbean sun. Charlotte picked up a large wicker basket and passed it to him as they walked over to the line.

“You know, when we started this, or I should say, when Eleanor Guthrie barged into the brothel and told me that we had to leave immediately… Well, I didn’t think that I would like it. I thought that it would be boring, or that we’d have to fuck Lord Hamilton on a regular basis.”

James nearly choked on his own spit. Charlotte laughed.

“But, I like it here now, and I like Lord Hamilton. And I like that I can keep the things that I like from my old life, like Logan, but get rid of things I hated, like Teach’s crew. And I know that I’m not as smart as Max, or as good at putting things into words as her ladyship, but I want you to know that I like the way things are here, and that I’m worried that the Navy being here can only mean bad things.”

She finished folding up the last of the bedsheets and placed it in the basket, her face the picture of honest yearning for the life she’d come to like.

James took a deep breath and smiled at her. He closed his eyes to gather his strength before he opened his mouth.

“I promise…” he took another deep breath, “I won’t let it.”

Charlotte smiled and took the basket from him.

“Thanks.”

They walked back into the house together, both feeling lighter than they had before.


	9. Miranda III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. I was away last week, so you're getting two chapters this week.
> 
> I'm not sure how regularly I'll update in the next two months, because I'll be away from home, but I'll try to rig something up.

Miranda could have screamed as the Admiralty came up the drive, and into her house. One might have thought that there would be some relaxation of the naval dress code now that they were here in the heat of the Bahamas, but no, they were all wearing their dress coats and powdered wigs.

She hoped that they felt as though they were boiling.

Her husband stood beside her, looking equally ridiculous, though on close inspection, she could see that he was missing at least one of the underlayers of his formal clothes, and as far as she could tell, he had done something to the back of his wig to allow more air in.

A good show of propriety, but with no substance behind it.

For some reason, he seemed mildly distressed. The admirals would not notice it, but she could see the way he was fidgeting with his hands behind his back, and the way that he was perched to take most of his wait on the balls of his feet.

If memory served, they were both habits he had picked up from James, and likely now that was the topic that unsettled him so.

The admiralty reached them, and she put all thoughts of James aside.

It was time to play the vapid whore that all of London had taken her for.

She charmed her way through lunch; laughing just a little too loudly at the tepid jokes made by the navy men, drinking slightly too much wine in full view of the men, and making the occasional crass comment.

All things considered, she thought that she did a fine job of making Thomas seem a fine and beleaguered man, who despite the world attacking him on every angle, was making a valiant attempt at reforming New Providence Island. If all things went well, it would buy them enough time to prepare the Island for her independence from England.

In truth, she was surprised by how easily she managed to fool most of the men, only the disapproving eyes of Admiral Hennessy making her feel wary of the danger that was surely breathing down their necks.

Oh how she wanted to grab him by the head and smash it into the table until there was nothing left but the bloody pulp of his skull. She wanted to pull that horrific powdered wig from his head and cast it into the sea along with the man wearing it.

Even worse, she wanted to make him look upon James, her beautiful, sweet, recovering James, and behold at all that she, Thomas, and James had strived to do to reverse his own abominable actions. She wanted to show him that despite his best efforts, the man he had once considered to be his son had not been destroyed, that he was yet growing stronger, and that he was loved.

Instead of doing any of that, she sipped at her wine, and met his disapproving stares with a charming, completely meaningless smile.

She waited until it was clear that the men wanted to discuss business before showing herself out of the room. While she would have desperately loved to stay, and poke holes in their arguments, she had business to attend to in town, and she’d never have as much freedom as she did now.

There was little doubt in her mind that the admiralty would not miss her as she worked on her own careful negotiations with the young Miss Guthrie.

Nassau town was quiet, as would be expected when a ship of The Royal Navy was sitting in the harbour. There was more than one man on the account who gave her a withering look as she walked towards the Guthrie tavern.

Even Mr. Scott, who knew of her and Thomas’ plan looked at her dubiously as she asked to see Eleanor.

Miss Guthrie, it turned out, was nonplussed at the situation.

“You’re telling me that the next time your fucking Navy comes to my fucking island you plan to completely annihilate it using a fleet of pirate ships?”

She turned to Miranda from where she had been looking out of the window that overlooked the bridge to the brothel. Though her face still had the traces of childhood on it, there was something of a hardness to her soul.

Miranda always loved meeting a kindred spirit.

“Essentially yes. I didn’t think that it would be a problem, seeing as you have crews which are, by my reckoning, the nightmares of the Caribbean Sea. If the British Navy can use a line to safeguard from pirates, I see no reason why the reverse cannot also be true.”

“Have you ever tried organizing these men, I swear to god, you’d have more luck with cats.”

Miranda stood, frowning at the slightly shorter woman.

“While they might be rough men, I have been led to believe that the pirates of Nassau are not without sense. Even Teach would be able to recognise that there is power in having a stronghold, a central place where they can return to without fear of prosecution.”

Eleanor snorted. “Teach has his own particular way of thinking. You might be able to convince Hornigold, especially if Hamilton is as Scottish a name as it sounds, Naft will go along with anything, but Teach? As lovely as you are, I think you might have some difficulty in convincing him of anything, even that the sky is blue. And even if you do manage to convince every Captain on this Island of the merits of your scheme, even if you do manage to sink every ship in the British navy, there is still the matter of the Spanish and the French.”

Miranda sat down at the desk, suddenly feeling completely dispirited with the situation. She picked up bottle of rum and poured herself a small portion of it.

“Do you think that our endeavour is completely hopeless then?”

Eleanor sat opposite her and shook her head.

“The way I see it, if you can fool The Navy, well, you’ve got bigger balls than most bulls. If you succeed, there is a way to free this island from those who would have us in shackles, and a viable economic situation to make the Island sustainable. It’s worth trying.”

Miranda frowned, “Those are not your words, or at least not as I recognise them. Have you shared our plans with someone other than Mr. Scott?”

Eleanor frowned and blushed. “Teach returned to the island, just before the navy came. He has a new Quartermaster, a man of about twenty who came to the crew from a lumber plantation. He has many ideas.”

“And all of them as well thought out as that?”

Eleanor smiled, “If you can get past the gruffness of his voice, he is quite a wordsmith. I believe that Teach holds him and his opinion in high regard. And the whole Island holds Teach in high regard. They may seem rough, but in time you’ll have a fleet fighting for Nassau.”

“You know too much for a girl of only sixteen, Eleanor. When I was your age, I knew little of rousing men for a battle, and even less of running a business.”

Eleanor smiled, though it was a brittle tired thing, something that Miranda had felt upon her own face many a time since she had first been introduced to Alfred Hamilton. It made her feel so very tired as she thought of how much suffering Eleanor must have endured to develop such a painful grimace at such a tender age.

She watched as Eleanor poured herself some rum, the young fence taking a deep draught of the foul-tasting liquid before she began to speak.

“When I was eight, the Spanish came, and sacked the entire Island. They killed my mother, and many of my friends. I had the choice then, of either being sent back to Boston to be the pitiful motherless granddaughter, worth little to anyone, or to make something of myself.”

The young blonde gestured to the office that they were sat in.

“I have made something of myself, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to live through that Eleanor.” Miranda held out her hand, smiling as Eleanor took it, “For what it’s worth, I think you are fighting for what is right.”

“You have no children of your own, do you Lady Hamilton?”

Miranda shook her head sadly, leaning back into her chair and sipping on the small glass of rum offered to her before she spoke. “My husband and I, we don’t…” she sighed, “we haven’t been blessed that way, no. But there is some hope still, the change is not upon me yet. Why?”

“You’re better at parenting than most people I know.” Eleanor smiled at her. “While you’re here, we should discuss your cook. I’m afraid that you may have to make do with Idelle for the time being.”

“She’s very competent. I imagine that we could be happy with her work for a few more weeks.”

“It’s very hard to find a good cook on the sea, once a crew has found someone who can make five-week old potatoes edible, they aren’t very keen to let them go.”

“I understand.”

“I heard that you hired a doctor from the Walrus crew. They’re good men, as far as pirates go, though not necessarily the crew I would have taken a doctor from.”

Miranda shifted in her chair, breaking herself out of her melancholy as she put the glass back on the table, “He came recommended by Charlotte. Our last physician-”

“Was killed by Teach’s quartermaster as he tried to flee to Charlestown. Like I said, he has very fixed ideas, and he doesn’t appreciate overly religious bastards. He wanted to know why you’d hire such a bastard, said it might be a problem if you wanted the crew of the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ to be on your side when the time for Nassau’s liberation comes.”

Miranda sighed and looked down, “He was recommended to us by a man we once called friend, but who now, after what he has tried to do to my family, is no longer considered as such. Please reassure the quartermaster that the physician was no reflection of our beliefs.”

“I’ll pass on the message on,” Eleanor paused as she sipped her rum once more, “A man from the Walrus told Mr. Scott that you keep a demon in your house. That he had heard from Mr. Logan that it wails in the night like a stuck pig. I have not seen Max since she started her work in your employ, and as such, I don’t know the truth for myself.”

“And this bothers you?”

“I gave them to you under what I thought was a fair assumption that you would keep them safe. I would hate to find out that isn’t the case.”

Miranda smiled and stood up, placing her glass on the table and beginning her trek to the door. “I assure you, Miss Guthrie, that the only demons residing in my house live entirely inside the minds of its inhabitants. If Max hasn’t seen you in a few days, it merely means that she has been sleeping well enough on her day off that she doesn’t have time to come into town.”

Eleanor nodded. “You give me your word that she is being well taken after? That she isn’t being hurt by anyone or anything in your house?”

Miranda smiled. “I think she shows great promise. From what I’ve seen of her when she’s left alone with a good book, and the way she is with the more vulnerable members of my household, it’s very clear that she has a sharp mind, and a good heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up running this place someday.”

Eleanor smiled and shrugged. “I’ve had the same thought myself.”

Miranda stood. “I’ll give her your regards, but now, I must bid you good day.”

Eleanor coughed, Miranda paused in her retreat.

“Would you be able to tell me which day is her day off?”

Miranda smiled as she thought of how, despite the impressive figure that the young woman cut against the backdrop of her office, there was still a part of Eleanor that resembled a small child, complete with the need to be loved.

“After the admiralty leaves today, she will be free to come into town if she so wishes. You can send a horse to collect her if you’d like.”

She left the office, the tavern, the town of Nassau behind her as she walked to her carriage.

The return home was uneventful enough, the admiralty long gone by the time that she returned to the now familiar mansion. The small smile that came to her face when she recognised the growing affection for the place disappeared upon entering it; a heavy atmosphere weighed her down nearly as soon as she entered.

A quick glance in the dining room revealed that all evidence of the admiralty having been there had been erased, so it could not be put down to her staff’s natural mistrust of the men of the British Navy.

When she walked upstairs, and placed her shawl on the bed, there was no trace of Thomas or James, and nor was there any evidence of her dear Irishman when she walked into his room, even her cursory examination of the garden from James’ window showed nothing but grass and flowers.

Miranda turned from the window, her eyes flitting over the surfaces of the empty room.

There was no doubt in her mind that something must be terribly wrong, the only question was where the trouble could be.

A quick scream from downstairs gave her some indication of where she might think to look, her feet carrying her down the stairs with the speed of a gazelle.

Her men were in the library. James had fallen on the floor, Max sitting beside him clasping his right hand in her own while Thomas stood by the windows. A close examination of James revealed while there was no physical injury to see, James’ breathing indicated a high degree of internal distress.

Thomas was white as a sheet, staring at the scene in some sort of trance.

Miranda’s gaze flickered between the two men, both clearly in distress. She didn’t know what the story was, or how exactly two people who seemed to be cut entirely from the same cloth had come to such a distressing scene.

So she forced all emotion from her mind, as had been her habit in the past three years, and turned to Max.

“Max, fetch Doctor Howell from his rooms.” The young maid hesitated, so Miranda came to sit by her side and smiled at her, “Now, before James gets any worse.”

Max left, leaving the ill-fated trio alone in their library.

She turned to Thomas, the fury clear on her face as she waited for him to begin his explanation.


	10. Thomas III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've managed to rig things up so that there will be an update next week, but anything after that is in a higher power's hands. If there aren't any updates after that, posting should resume towards the end of January.
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!

Thomas’ main fear in inviting the Admiralty to his house had been that they might see through his pretence at accepting English rule over the island.

For the most part it seemed unfounded, the powdery white faces accepting his plan to ‘pacify’ the pirates enough to make them easy targets for Her Majesty’s Navy.

He had to admit, based on the meagre descriptions that James had given him of the men whilst they had spent time together in London, he had expected the men stood around his study’s desk to be more hardened, with the ability to rip men’s throats out with their teeth.

It seemed that James, the ever sensible one, hadn’t been completely immune to the occasional moment of self-deception, or flight of fancy.

The only source of opposition to his plan, to absolutely no-one’s surprise, was Admiral Hennessy. The last three years might not have been kind to the man, but the fire in him still burned as bright as ever. He remained silent through most of the discussions, separating from the rest of the admirals when they began to make their excuses and remove themselves from his library.

“Admiral Hennessy,” Thomas moved over to the library desk, making a show of looking for a document while in reality he was desperately searching for the words he could use as a shield against the man’s words. “I didn’t expect that you would make the journey to Nassau, I’ve heard reports from London that you were suffering from the winter weather.”

“Did you think that I would allow you to execute your plan to ruin Nassau without any interruption?”

Thomas looked up at Hennessy. Before James had been taken, he had only vaguely known the man’s face. Afterwards, the man had become a constant thorn in his side, who seemed to haunt him wherever he went in Whitehall. From a simple glance, it would be hard to tell such a simple looking man could cause such trouble, but he had.

When Alfred Hamilton had died, it had been Admiral Hennessey who had tried to get the cause of death investigated, who threw about accusations that were just this side of slander.

When Thomas had subtly began to make the necessary movements to secure the position of Governor to New Providence Island, Hennessy had been the one to gnash his teeth, and bemoan that the unfortunate character of Lieutenant McGraw likely made him ineligible for the post. He’d even gone so far as to suggest that a young upstart by the name of Woodes Rogers be appointed to the position, but fortunately, Thomas had managed to best the man in the political arena.

And most infuriatingly, when Thomas begun the process of removing James, his truest love, from the halls of Bedlam, Hennessy had made every motion to thwart his rescue. The man had even come to his house.

_1707, London_

_Thomas had not been expecting visitors this night. While he still sometimes ran the salons that had made him notorious, they were less frequent, and the topic of conversation inevitably tepid. If you were to ask some of the nosier members of society, Thomas had lost his nerve after his plan to reform Nassau had been scrapped. If you were to ask Thomas, he merely smiled, and would say that he had finally managed to settle into form of respectability in his old age._

_Tonight, he’d expected to go to his and Miranda’s bed later than was strictly speaking appropriate, and to try in vain to catch a few hours of sleep._

_He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see Admiral Hennessy standing on his doorstep, the man refusing to be sent away despite the lateness of the hour and the rain that had begun to fall that morning._

_“I will not go until I have spoken to the Earl, even if it means that I must spend the entire night baying at his door!”_

_Thomas had been walking through the entrance hall of his London House when the Admiral arrived, and being in the mood for some verbal sparring, foolishly allowed his butler to bid him enter._

_The Admiral, despite the signs of age that were becoming more and more apparent on his weary face, had refused to sit once he had been shown to Thomas’ office, and had launched into a verbal assault almost as soon as the door had closed behind him._

_“I will be plain, I know that it is not the way of your class of people, but I feel there is no other way to dissuade you from whatever foolishness you have concocted. Cease your enquiries about McGraw.”_

_Thomas shook his head, biting down on his lip to refrain from baring his teeth at the man._

_“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about Admiral.”_

_That had been the wrong thing to say, Hennessy slamming one had down on Thomas’ desk before he spoke again._

_“Do not play games with me, My Lord. I am well aware that you have been making enquiries to the administrators of Bethlem Royal Hospital, that you have written to the proprietor about the process of procuring the release of a patient. He was the man who informed me. Do not deny it.”_

_Thomas sighed and sat at his desk, making a not-so-subtle attempt to brush the letters he’d received back from the hospital underneath a well-loved copy of Don Quixote. He hadn’t been particularly subtle, he’d admit, but he hadn’t expected to be ratted out._

_“I’m merely trying to assess the health of a dear friend who you unjustly imprisoned in that dungeon.” He looked Hennessy in the eye and frowned. “I’ve heard that many prisoners suffer from the damp, I thought it might be better if James were moved to the warmer clime of the Caribbean.”_

_Hennessy shook his head._

_“A dear friend who_ I _unjustly imprisoned? Surely you must be mistaken. It was not I who drove him mad with the most unnatural type of lust. No, I have done my best to salvage what I can of McGraw. The doctors say that there is still hope for him, having endured_ you _for only a short time.”_

_Thomas could feel his hands shaking with rage._

_“Having endured me? Having endured me?! Do you mean having loved me? You condemned him, yes_ you _condemned him, for the supposed crime of having loved me. And now you condemn him further by refusing him the opportunity of being taken to a place where he might recover from the treatment he has endured, because of you.”_

_Hennessy scoffed. Thomas decided that he would take no more of this and stood pointing to the door._

_“Get out of my house Admiral. Do not return lest you wish me to throw you out into the street.”_

 

Thomas forced himself to return to the present as he thought of how he could best counter Hennessy without committing some terrible act of violence.

“I’m sure that I don’t understand what you mean, Admiral. In only ten days, I’ve managed to pacify the pirates, establish a relationship with the honest farmers of New Providence Island, and rescue three poor souls from a life of forced prostitution. I would call that a success for everyone, wouldn’t you?”

Hennessy walked forwards, placing his hands atop Thomas’ desk. He glared much like James used to do before he’d been taken, steel in his eyes.

“I have not forgotten what you proposed in London, what you did in London, who you killed in London,” Hennessy seemed to be shaking with the fury that had overtaken him, “You may have fooled the rest of the admiralty into thinking you are a saint, but I know better.”

“I’ve killed no-one Admiral, hurt no-one. Do not try to displace your own feelings of guilt onto me.”

“So, you don’t even feel guilty? For all of the lives that you have ruined, for the man who lies, rotting, in an unconsecrated grave in the lands of a madhouse?”

Thomas bit his lip, trying not to give himself or James away. Maybe it was time to express the feelings that had roiled within him for the three years of James’ imprisonment.

“I did not consign him to that vile place, that was entirely your doing. Do not dare try to blame any of the harm that came to him on me when you could have prevented it.”

Hennessy looked up at him, his dark eyes unreadable as he began to breathe heavily through his nose. Thomas wondered if he should feel some concern over the man suffering from an apoplectic fit, but on a quick inspection of his heart found that there was none he could spare.

“I tried to prevent it. I warned him of you, of your ways. When I though that he was getting to close I tried to get him to step back, but by then you and your vile wife had sunk your claws in too deep. I only consigned him to that vile place, as you call it, to try to heal the damage that you wrought.”

The admiral was breathing heavily by the time he finished. He slumped forward a little bit, all of the weight of his torso supported by his frail arms. The muscles of his face were contorted into a snarl, the hatred in his heart plain upon his face.

“You killed my son, my Lord, and I will not forget it.” Hennessy stood up straight, folding his arms behind his back before he began to speak again, “I don’t know what you are doing here, what foul plan you intend to enact on this Island, but know that I will do my utmost best to frustrate your efforts. Good day my lord.”

Hennessey turned and started to walk towards the door, just about to leave when Thomas called out.

“You said that I killed you son? I was not aware that Lieutenant McGraw had… had passed away.”

Hennessy stopped by the door, turning to look at Thomas with weary, sad eyes. “I heard reports that you had not visited him, not even once. I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised.” He inhaled heavily and blinked a few times before he continued, “James McGraw died a resident of Bethlem Royal Hospital, the same day that you and Lady Hamilton left. They say he just… lost the will to go on.”

Thomas frowned, he knew that the real James was in fact, alive, and somewhere in his house, but the very situation that Hennessy believed to be the truth had plagued his dreams for many years.

“Did you ever visit him, before he died, Admiral?”

Hennessy sighed, “Once, a year ago. He did not recognise me or respond to my voice. I blame you Lord Hamilton. I blame you every second for what happened to him.”

Hennessy left, leaving Thomas with the overwhelming urge to find James and hold him a close as was humanly possible.

He walked out of the library, up the stairs and straight to James’ room. He found it empty, and confused, walked back downstairs in search of James’ personal maid, Max. She was not any of the proper rooms, and so he made his way to the kitchen. He found Max there, along with James, both of them sitting in the corner, peeling potatoes for what he assumed was that night’s dinner.

James startled when he saw him, alerting Max to his presence. She stood, placing her knife on the short wooden table they were sitting at before she turned to him and curtseyed slightly.

“My Lord, is there something in the main house that I can help you with?” She smiled, her eyes flicking frantically between James and him. “Mr. Hamilton did not wish to remain in his room, and so I thought that he might be happier in the kitchens with me. If there has been any transgression-”

“There has been no transgression Max, I merely wished to see Mr. Hamilton with my own two eyes.” He smiled and stepped forward, carefully leveraging himself into a crouch and smiling at James. “Today was very draining, and it reminded me of how much I love you. I have nothing left to do for the rest of the day, would you like to sit with me in the library?”

James smiled and nodded, standing with his hand outstretched for Thomas to take.

Thomas looked to Max, smiling at her, “Would you like to come with us?”

Max nodded, put away her things and followed them to the library. Thomas settled on one of the lounges and pulled James to sit next to him.

James settled so that their thighs were touching and smiled as Thomas put one arm around his shoulders. It made Thomas’ heart flutter, the easy way in which James laid his head against his chest. It was a far cry from the state James had been in when he’d first been brought to New Providence Island.

“Today was very draining, and I’m sorry for forcing you to stay out of your favourite place.”

James grumbled, leaning into Thomas touch. His soft coppery hair brushed against Thomas’ chin, sending shivers down his spine as he remembered how lovely their time spent like this had been in London. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before he made what very well might have been the stupidest decision of his life.

“I missed you very much when I was talking to Admiral Hennessy.”

James’ reaction was instantaneous. He flung himself from the couch, walking in increasingly frantic circles around the coffee table. In the few seconds it took for him to stand, his breathing had already increased, and his eyes had glazed over.

“James, please,” Thomas extended his arms with his hands extended, his palms flat as he reached out for James to no avail, “Please calm down.”

Max had stood from where she had disappeared into the shadows. She walked over to James, smiling at him and holding out her hands.

“Mr. Hamilton, it is important that you calm down before you hurt yourself. The exertion cannot be good for you.”

James shook his head, and began to wave his arms in the air in front of his face as though he could not get enough air. Thomas walked forward, stopping a foot short of the distressed man to try to avoid spooking him.

“James, it’s alright, he can’t hurt you. He’s gone, he doesn’t even know that you’re here.”

James shook his head again and shoved Thomas away from him.

Thomas watched, as if in a trance as James collapsed onto the floor. He cowered away from Thomas’ touch, wriggling towards Max, who knelt to cradle him in her arms.

There was little that Thomas could do as Miranda strode into the room and sent Max away. Muttering that James fell did very little to appease her, and so, after the few minutes it took Howell to arrive he strode from the house, climbed onto his horse, and rode into town straight towards the tavern.


	11. James IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!
> 
> So sorry about the long delay in getting this chapter out. As always, life is a bit more tricky than you expect.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

James felt completely desolate after his moment of complete and utter panic in the Library. He tried his best to be present for Thomas and Miranda as they administered to him that night once the former returned from Nassau town, even going so far as to dine with them downstairs rather than in the privacy of his own room. He found himself sitting at the head of the table, Miranda and Thomas on either side of him, no doubt monitoring him closely for any sign of the panic which had overcome him earlier.

“Would you like some Papaya, darling James?” Miranda smiled at him as Charlotte cleared their plates and Max brought a fruit platter out from the kitchen.

He breathed in deeply and nodded firmly. “Yes please.”

Thomas smiled at him and leant forward to place a kiss on his temple.

“I can understand the desire to make this place one’s own. Can you imagine living in a place where such delights, which only grace the tables of the most elevated nobles in London, grow freely?”

James shook his head and stifled a laugh as Thomas fumbled with the fruit, clearly completely at a loss on how to cut the thing. A quick glance at Max revealed the maid to be hiding a smile by ducking her head, a feeling that James would have shared, were he still not so tired.

Instead, he nudged Thomas, directing the Lord Hamilton’s view to Max, who stepped forward from where she had been waiting against the wall and offered to take the fruit.

Thomas smiled charmingly and handed her the fruit and a knife. “I suppose that it would be a god idea to actually ask a local.”

Max nodded as she cut the fruit in half and began to scoop out the seeds. “If you ever find yourself running short on your supply of pepper, I’ve found the seeds are a good substitute.”

“How ingenious,” Miranda spoke, her eyes fixed on Max’s hands as she worked. “I’ll take you to the market with me next time I’m in Nassau, Max, I’d love to see what else the island has in store.”

Max smiled, her eyes coming up to meet James’. She shook her head slightly as she retreated back to the wall. “I’m afraid that I do not like to be in Nassau town that often, not while Teach’s men are in the port at the very least.”

James frowned. As far as he could remember, the only Teach he knew of was the one who caused the deaths of Governor Thompson’s wife and child. If the fearsome Blackbeard was in Nassau, it did not bode well for Thomas or Miranda. He leant forward, forcing the question to his mind.

“Blackbeard?”

His voice was still rougher than he’d like it to be, and the sheer amount of effort that it had taken to produce one word was completely ridiculous, but it was worth it for the twin smiles on Thomas and Miranda’s faces.

Thomas nodded his head, obviously trying to limit the amount of concern that came to his face before he spoke. There was a small part of James that was delighted to see that he still furrowed his brow and bit down on his bottom lip when he was trying to formulate an argument.

“Teach commands the respect of nearly every man on this Island. If I can convince him to turn on the British Navy the next time they rear their ugly heads, then I will likely have every crew on the island turning against the British navy. It would be a powerful show of force, perhaps one which would be sufficient to convince England to withdraw permanently from this place.”

James shook his head, clearing his throat before he could begin to talk.

“This is a place… for free men. You cannot… control them.”

Thomas nodded, but the spark in his eyes showed that he was clearly not going to leave the issue at this, even as James wished that he might show him some mercy in his tired state.

“I will not repeal their freedoms, if the pirates will listen to me, then I will enhance it.”

James snorted. “You will?”

As if sensing the possibility of the discussion escalating into a full-blown argument, Miranda leant forward and stole some of James’ papaya. After placing the fruit segment into her mouth, she placed a hand on James’ hand, the other coming to rest on Thomas’ elbow.

“May I suggest that we return to this topic, this discussion, when James is better able to defend himself against your rhetoric, my darling?”

James hated to admit that he needed the help, but Miranda had a point. He nudged Thomas and then looked meaningfully at the papaya, his eyebrows raised in playful suggestion.

“I thought that Howell said you were regaining the use of your hand.” And oh, if Thomas had intended to be taken seriously, he should not have let the find beginnings of laughter into his voice as he spoke.

James chuckled.

“Would… you deny… your poor… sweet… James?”

Thomas shook his head, scooping up a piece of papaya and pressing it against James’ lips until he opened his mouth. James hummed as he tasted the sweet fruit, resisting the urge to laugh.

“I could never deny you anything, my sweet. Though for now, it might be a good idea to clean up and go to bed. There is much for us to do tomorrow, and you’ll need to be strong for it.”

James nodded, waiting for Max to come to his side of the table before he tried to stand. He smiled, somewhat timidly, but still sincerely at Miranda and Thomas before he silently took his leave.

Max waited until he was sitting comfortably in his bed before she spoke.

“I agree with you Mr. Hamilton, about this island.”

James nodded. “I’ll talk… to Thomas.”

The maid smiled and started to walk towards the door. “I would suggest that you rest first.”

* * *

The bandages had come off of James’ hand today for good. He had watched, the smile firmly on his face, as Doctor Howell had removed the gauze strips, and had inspected the fingers with the gentlest prodding that could be imagined.

The Doctor had smiled up at him and declared him fit to use the hand again on the condition that he didn’t try to lift anything heavy until he approved.

It was an easy caveat to live with. Even the residual stiffness had not been enough to dull his smile as he dressed himself properly for the first time in over three years. Max had promised to wait outside the door, in case he needed her assistance with anything, but he had not called on her, instead surprising her as he left his room.

They had immediately gone to the garden. While James was finding it easier and easier to walk with every passing day, he had not made even the smallest sound of protest when Max had begged him to sit down next to her in the shade before they’d go for a walk.

“It seems like there may come a time when I am completely superfluous to your needs, no?” Max quirked an eyebrow before dissolving into giggles, “I shall find myself banished to the kitchens, doomed to weather Idelle and Charlotte’s silliness.”

“No,” James grinned, looking out over the beautiful garden.

Max sighed.

“The Governor, Lord Hamilton, he is still in search of a cook. It might be that neither you or I will have any choice in the matter.”

“Man. Last week?”

Max shook her head, “Lord Hamilton found him to be unsuitable, he did not have enough experience. Idelle is making do, and I help. We can wait for the right sort of person, someone who knows what he is doing.”

James ducked his head and smiled. “I can help.”

Max laughed softly and nodded. “It is true that you’ve impressed us all with your work in the kitchens when the admiralty visited. Idelle told me that she might have finally found a useful man in the world.”

James laughed softly. “I like it.”

Max nodded, “I will talk to Doctor Howell, I’m sure he would be happy to see you using your hands more, though there is one thing which I need to talk to you about.”

James sighed. He had a suspicion that he already knew what the topic of conversation would be.

“You had a nightmare last night. I know it was a bad one, even compared to the normal ones you have nearly every night. You know that I am not ever going to hurt you, so why don’t you confide in me? I might be able to help you.”

James shook his head, shrugging as he fiddled with his fingers and tried to figure out how to give voice to his concerns when it was still so difficult to speak.

“I was betrayed.”

Max frowned, “By Lord Hamilton?”

James shook his head. “Admiral Hennessy.”

“I heard his name spoken, by Lord and Lady Hamilton. He was one of the guests who came to the house, non?” Max leant forward and placed her hand on top of his, coaxing his fingers out of a claw that would have given him much pain the next day.

“I thought him a father.”

“And he betrayed you?” Max sighed when James nodded in the affirmative. “It must have been hard for you, to have someone who hurt you be so close, but you must understand that your Lord and Lady would never allow any harm to come to you.”

“They couldn’t… protect me… in London.”

Max smiled at him, moving his hair out of his face and meeting his eyes before she began to speak.

“I was not always of Nassau. There was a time when I was held on a plantation on another Island, forced to work without reparation for my labour, saw the members of my family brutalised and murdered by people who claimed to be gentlemen.”

James frowned.

“Max?”

“I’m telling you this, because when I came to Nassau, I had also been hurt, been betrayed, seen things which made me want to give up on believing in the good of mankind. And then, when I was forced into the brothel because of the colour of my skin and my sex, I thought that the world must indeed be a very dark place.”

She smiled, placing both hands on the side of his face, keeping his eyes on her as she continued to speak.

“But then Lady Hamilton came, she helped me without expectation of a return in her investment. I am sure that there are issues in your relationship with them, and I know there will be a time when I must part ways with them, as I have greater ambitions than being an insignificant house maid. But it would be folly to say that they don’t have good intentions towards you.”

“I love them.”

“And they love you,” Max stood gesturing for him to follow her into the house. “I have a letter from your Lord.”

“Thomas?”

Max smiled wryly, pulling a note out from her apron and passing it to James. “I thought that men were supposed to say what they meant face to face.”

James shook his head as he opened the love letter, his newly liberated fingertips tracing over the elegant loops of Thomas’ handwriting that professed the undying love he felt for James.

_James_

_I love you, and I miss the weight of you in my arms._

_I have no meetings today, let us find an Island of serenity in this chaotic place._

_T.H._

_P.S. Miranda will join us too._

James looked at Max, clearing his throat before he spoke.

“When?”

Max smiled and stood. She extended her arm to him and supported his weight as he leveraged himself onto his feet.

“Not five minutes before I took you into the garden, Mr. Hamilton. Would you like me to take you to the study? I believe that Lord and Lady Hamilton are waiting for you.”

James nodded and leaned on her to walk back through the house. He smiled as he saw Miranda and Thomas waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Miranda smiled and held out a hand to him, pulling him into a tight embrace when he reached them.

“Hello my love. We have a proposition to discuss with you.”

The three of them walked towards the study, Thomas taking him from Miranda and leading him to the window seat behind the desk. Miranda took a book out from the many shelves, opening it to a map of the Island.

“I’ve been reliably informed that there is a stretch of coast, used only by pirates when they’re desperate to careen their ships and have found no other option. It’s quiet, and there are many trees which can be sat under.” Thomas smiled at his cleverness, and so too did James.

Miranda chuckled, “In reality, Thomas is desperate to show off how adept he’s become at being a functional human, and has decided to lure you out so you might see his terrible attempts at swimming.”

James snorted and let his teeth show as he smiled.

“Yes?”

Thomas licked his lips as James forced out the syllable. The blonde lord leant forward, then entwined the fingers of his left hand with those of James’.

“I’ll admit that I’ve been practicing. You remember the stream that ran through the country house?”

James nodded.

“Miranda convinced one of the stable boys to teach her to swim, and she in turn passed on the lessons to me, though,” he leaned in diabolically until his nose nearly brushed against James’, “I think I made a terrible student, I was so enamoured of my teacher that I made a terrible study.”

“We would like to take you there, to see the beauty of the island outside of the house. The gardens are lovely, I will admit, but they do not have everything the New Providence can offer.” Miranda smiled as she placed a kiss to his forehead.

Thomas leant forward and brushed the uncontrollable copper strands out of James’ face. Once Miranda was clear of the two of them, he placed a kiss to James’ forehead in the same spot.

He sighed, then began to speak “I am well aware of the myriad failings of which I am the root cause. I’m particularly aware of them in relation to you, of all the ways I have endangered you because of my foolishness.”

James frowned. “Thomas.”

“No, my love, I’ll say my piece on this. I thought that coming here might put all of our issues behind us. As a result, I fear that I haven’t properly thought about your needs and wants. I’m sorry for the pain that I have caused you by forcing you into the shadows when you should be in the light with me and Miranda. I promise that you will be beside me in every aspect of decision making from now on.”

James smiled, took a deep breath, and forced his mouth to cooperate with him.

“About the liberation of New Providence Island…”


	12. Miranda IV.

The day of James’ fall, Miranda had sought the advice of Doctor Howell as soon as he had left James’ room.

The young man had sighed as she made her approach, as though he was expecting and dreading this conversation. In truth she could not blame him, for she suspected that after the difficult process of calming James to the point where the former Lieutenant could sleep, he wanted nothing more than to collapse himself. He turned to her and forced a smile.

“Lady Hamilton. I’ve calmed Mr. Hamilton, I’ve given him some laudanum to help him rest, but only the one dose. I’ve instructed Max to give him rum if he suffers from any further pain of the mind.”

“That sounds very wise,” Miranda steeled herself, “Doctor, I want to talk to you about James.”

“Mr. Hamilton was fortunate that it was merely a small moment of panic, rather than a full mental break. He should recover if he rests and avoids any further mental strain.”

Miranda sighed, “That’s appreciated, but it’s not what I wanted to talk about today,” she paused and sighed heavily, “I want to talk to you about his state of mind, as you have assessed it.”

“There’s not much more to say about his treatment today.”

“No, but surely you have talked to him enough to know that there are moments where he seems withdrawn, melancholy. I think that he is putting on a mask for me and Thomas, and I know that is not a good thing. I seek to resolve this, if it is possible.”

Howell sighed and frowned at her, he twisted his hands together as he spoke.

“Lady Hamilton, how much time do you spend with James?”

Miranda shrugged as she did the mental calculations, frowning as she realised how little it was.

“I’d say at least a few hours every week. More on the occasions that he decides to sleep in my bed rather than his own. Why?”

Howell shrugged.

“I see him every day, and I find that he’s happy, engaged with the world, particularly when his maid is with him. Maybe his reluctance isn’t to engage with the world, but with you and your husband.”

Miranda frowned and found herself breathing through her nose as she tried to gather her thoughts. She wanted to rage at this pirate that he knew nothing of her relationship with James, of Thomas’ relationship with James. She wanted to cast him out of her house and demand that he never return.

But some part of her knew that there must be a grain of truth in what he was saying, so she schooled her face into placid interest and forced herself to listen.

“How so? What would you say we are doing wrong?”

Howell sighed once more.

“I believe that he smiles at Max, at me, because he can be sure we’ll be there the next time he needs us, and the time after that, and every time after that. He is happy when he is with me, because he knows that I am reliable, and I will do him no harm.”

“And he doesn’t feel that with my husband and with me?” She stepped forward towards the Doctor.

Howell nodded, looking her in the eye without a hint of fear, or even, she realised, deference.

“I’ve seen what you’ve done for James, the things you provide him with. It is… admirable, but he doesn’t need all the grandeur, or grand declarations of your love for him. He needs constancy, consistency, the promise that you will still be here tomorrow, and all of the days afterwards.”

Miranda nodded.

“Thank you, Doctor Howell. May I see him now, or would that upset him?”

“I believe he’d welcome your company, Lady Hamilton.”

She smiled and walked past him and towards James’ bedroom.

Her ginger love was sitting up in his bed when she entered his room. He looked away when she began her approach, his eyes firmly fixed upon the ground as she sat next to him.

“Hello Love,” she sighed, “We’ve royally fucked this up a bit, haven’t we?”

James made no move to answer. Miranda sighed and kissed him on the top of his head before she sat next to him on the bed. She placed one hand next to his, smiling slightly when he took it with his less injured left hand and drew it towards his lap.

“I want to tell you a story, my love, one which may be helpful to us, to the repairing of our relationship, but I will only do so if I have your permission.”

James finally met her eyes, his brow furrowed as he raised his eyebrows in question.

“What I’m going to say, it may seem like I’m trying to abdicate myself from the responsibility I bear you. I just want to assure you that it’s not what I’m trying to do. I just want to explain how such things came to be, and how I’m going to fix it. May I tell you that story?”

James nodded.

“As you know, I was born into a wealthy family. We were not landed gentry, but my father was a gentleman, and I a gentleman’s daughter. We came from merchant stock, and my predecessors had left enough money that I never wanted for any material possessions. But…”

She sighed and kissed James on the cheek.

“I can count the number of times that I saw my parents, interacted with them as an ordinary child would, on the palm of one hand,” she reached out to hold his hand, “I was not raised to know how to act with my heart, to act genuinely, even with Thomas. It is challenging, and I fear I’ve shied away from you because of it.”

She smiled and kissed James on the cheek again.

“I promise you that I won’t let you be hurt again. I will be by your side in my every free moment if you’ll let me.”

She stood and walked to one of the tables near the fire of James’ room. She picked up a tome that looked to be completely untouched by dust and frowned at the cover for a moment.

“Milton is a bit heavy for my own taste, but I can appreciate the artistry, have you started yet?”

James nodded and held out his thinly bandaged right hand to take the book and open it to the correct page. He nudged Miranda and pointed to the line he wanted her to start from.

She chuckled as she saw his choice of starting point, holding off from reading for a few moments.

“Is that what you think of the situation here? The place where the sky is clear and the weather fine?”

James smirked, the corners of his lips quirking up in a way that Miranda had thought adorable even before she had taken James as her lover. Evidently he hadn’t completely lost his sense of humour despite the pain that he must have been experiencing after Howell had reset his arm.

“I will not deny you anything James, I promise you.”

She took a deep breath and pulled herself into a more regal posture, emulating the actresses she had seen on her many excursions to Drury lane in her rebellious youth.

“ _Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:_  
_Here we may reign secure, and in my choice_  
_To reign is worth ambition though in Hell_  
_Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n…”_

_…_

By the time James had tired enough to be convinced to sleep they had managed to get halfway through Milton’s opus. Miranda stood and brought the covers up to cover him better and arranged his mosquito net around his form.

“I will return tomorrow, and we can read the rest.”

James smiled softly, his sleepy eyes threatening to shut with every passing second. He huffed out a breath and reached out for Miranda’s hand with his own.

“And then?”

Miranda leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead again.

“Thomas has a whole library of books for us to discover. I think that we could spend the rest of our lives working our way through them if we so wished. Now sleep my love, your body needs you to rest to heal.”

“Stay?”

Miranda nodded and sat on the chair once again. She smiled as she watched James’ eyes fluttering around the room. She remembered this habit from back before Peter Ashe and Alfred Hamilton had ruined their lives, something that he’d picked up from time spent in the navy.

First his eyes would flick over every entrance and exit to the room, checking for any unfamiliar figures. Then, he’d count every piece of furniture, catalogue where it was so he could tell if his things had been disturbed when he woke in the morning. Lastly, his eyes would flicker over the people in the room to see if he trusted them enough to fall asleep in their presence. In the past it had mostly been her and Thomas, and he’d always drifted off quite easily.

Now, while he seemed to harbour some reservations, he still collapsed against his pillows and closed his eyes after a few seconds.

Miranda stood, as though to leave, only to find that James had opened his eyes again and was looking at her imploringly. She sat and laughed softly, offering him her hand.

“I’d offer to sing, but I don’t think that you’d appreciate it. I’ll admit, I’ll be a bit upset if we don’t manage to secure me a spinet at the very least before we start a war with England.”

“It will be hard.” James brought her hands to his lips, and Miranda smiled as she felt him kiss the smooth skin as gently as if she were a delicate princess.

“So are most things worth doing, I find.”

James nodded and relinquished her hand.

Miranda stood straight and left the room, shedding her dress as soon as she reached her room.

Thomas coughed, looking at her shamefacedly as she approached. She held out her hand to silence him as she approached their shared bed and climbed in beside him. Was this to be her life now? Where she was doomed to be on bad terms with one of her men if she was speaking to the other?

She sighed.

“I want this to work, Thomas, I want this to work.”

“I know.” She could feel his hand coming to rest upon hers and shook it off. She needed a clear head.

“But for it to work he needs us, and not just when it is convenient for us. I fear that there won’t be much time which is spent in idyllic bliss for quite some time.”

“I know.”

“We will have to be there for him when he has nightmares, when he can barely speak, when his entire body pains him,” she smiled in the way she always smiled when she was called upon to prove her point with a line from scripture, or when she saw Thomas destroy someone’s faulty argument. “I am determined to be there for him whenever he needs me to be.”

She turned to Thomas, taking his hand in hers now that she was finished.

“I will be there, and I need to know that you will be as well.”

Thomas sighed.

“I will be there. For as long as he wants me to be there, I will be by his side. But he needs to want me to be there Miranda, and it feels like every time I reach out to him, he just pulls away.”

“I think he finds it very hard to face you sometimes. You must remember the way that he looked at you when you first met, to my eye, there is very little difference between his state now, and then.”

“You mean to say that he always feared me?”

Miranda rolled her eyes as she cursed the inability of great men to see past their own nose.

“He reveres you, he reveres you as our forebears once revered the sun. Believe me, when I first met you, I found it hard to string two words together, so in awe I was of you.”

“But this isn’t the first time that he’s encountered me, Miranda.”

“No,” she sighed, “but three years away from you, even if he had been ensconced in a palace rather than the madhouse, God Thomas, it does nothing to aid resistance to your charms. Let him love you in his own way until he knows that it is safe for him to be more clear.”

Thomas nodded and smiled at her.

“My muse, my love, thank you for shining a light on the situation.”

Miranda leaned forward and kissed him chastely on the mouth.

“You should sit with us for some time tomorrow. I’m sure that he would welcome your insights on the verse of Milton.”

“God, not _Paradise Lost_ , please tell me it isn’t _Paradise Lost_.”

Miranda giggled at his overly dramatic expression, kissing him a little more passionately this time.

“I’m afraid so love, now love, whether we spend the next hour sleeping or doing something more pleasurable, I think it’s time to dim the lights for tonight.”

Thomas put his book aside while Miranda extinguished all but the last candle.

Miranda smiled as Thomas reached for her and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and hummed happily as he began to run his fingers through her hair.

“Do you think that you could leave all this if James needed us to?” she turned slightly so she could see Thomas’ face in the low light. “Say goodbye to the idea of rebuilding the Island as a force to be reckoned with? Run away and live out the rest of our lives in obscurity?”

Thomas frowned at her. “Do you think it will come to that?”

Miranda rolled fully onto her stomach, making sure that she had captured Thomas’ eyes in her own gaze.

“I do not know. All that I do know is that Nassau ruined us once before, and that if it were to happen again the thought of recovery would be almost terrible. I need to know that should it threaten to happen again, I will be able to rely on you being by my side as we flee.”

Thomas hummed.

Miranda leant forward and pressed her lips to Thomas’s forehead before she fixed him with a look that demanded he speak.

“I will follow you into the depths of hell itself if you ask me to, my love. I am nothing if I don’t have you.”

Miranda nodded, she sat up briefly, blew the candle out, and allowed herself to fall asleep.


	13. Thomas IV.

The day after their important conversation, Thomas woke in the embrace of his wife. Her loose hair had shifted in the night and covered her face in a way most unbecoming of a lady. He groaned at the clock standing in the corner of the room as he realised how late in the day it was and sat up.

Miranda groaned and opened up one of her eyes ever so slightly, “Stay.”

Thomas grinned and shook his head, “I should see how James is doing. If he wants to join us, I’ll be back in just a minute.”

He got out of bed, not bothering to pull anything on over his nightshirt as he padded out of the room, through the hall, and into James’ room.

It was hard to see in the dark of the bedroom while the shutters were still closed, but there was no movement in the room. Thomas walked slowly and deliberately into the room, taking care not to make any noise until he caught sight of the room’s occupant. James was still asleep, laying on his right side on the far edge of the bed. Thomas padded forwards, kneeling next to James and blowing on his nose to wake his slumbering lover up.

“James,” he pressed a kiss to James’ forehead. “Darling, wake up.”

James grumbled something that Thomas couldn’t understand and buried his nose into the mattress.

“At least consider relocating, Miranda is still abed.” Thomas pressed a quick kiss to James’ cheek, smiling as he ducked out of the reach of his lover and was subjected to a fierce green eye glaring at him as the former lieutenant slowly disentangled himself from the bedsheets.

Eventually James rolled out of the bed and into Thomas’ arms. Thomas laughed softly as James wrapped his arms around his neck and nuzzled his neck. The former lieutenant pressed a kiss to the soft skin of Thomas’s neck, his voice uncharacteristically gruff from both sleep and disuse as he began to speak.

“Help me walk.”

Thomas slowly turned James around in his arms until the red-head’s back was flush against his front. They walked slowly in the general direction on Miranda’s sleeping form, meandering a bit as Thomas stopped to kiss James on his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. It may have taken a few minutes longer than it should have, but eventually Thomas found himself back in his bedroom.

He ushered James into the bed and helped him to lay next to Miranda before following him into the bed.

Thomas was quite sure that he’d never cease to be taken aback by the feeling of wholeness that he was struck with when he saw James and Miranda together in his bed.

Their time in London had been so very brief, barely a few weeks before James was called away to Nassau, and then only a few more before James’ imprisonment after he returned. To see the two people he loved the most in the word was a sight for which he’d gladly give up a place in eternal paradise.

Miranda, upon feeling the bed move turned and smirked at Thomas. She sat up and laid James head on her stomach, beginning to stroke his hair as Thomas clambered back into bed.

“We have nothing planned for today, and unfortunately the crew of the _Walrus_ is using the hidden beach for careening,” she shivered slightly as James grumbled against her stomach, the vibrations sending shocks running up her spine after so long spent parted. “Though what you’re thinking of might be out of the question. Doctor Howell said nothing that could strain your hand while you’re still recovering.”

Thomas sidled up to them and wrapped his arm around James. He pressed a quick kiss to James’ neck, smiling when he felt James sigh happily.

“But that doesn’t mean that we have to spend the day apart. We can just spend a quiet day in this room if that is what you wish.”

James rolled to face Thomas and opened his eyes properly, seeming awake for the first time of the day.

The suspicion still there in his eyes made Thomas’ heart break worse than even seeing him straight after his time in Bedlam hadn’t. The newly-made Earl leant forward and kissed him on the forehead.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt the depth of my affections for you, my love.”

Thomas lay down next to him and looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were a burden instead of the treasure that you are.”

He shimmied to be closer to James and placed one hand on James’ cheek.

“I will devote the rest of my days to making sure you know that I see you as an Angel, sent from heaven as Gabriel was to David. I will cherish and hold you until the day I die, and forever after in the fields of Elysium. Please tell me you understand.”

James nodded and carefully arranged himself on top of Thomas.

It was amazing how familiar the weight on his chest was, even after a three-year absence. Thomas closed his eyes and began to stroke his hand through James’ copper hair. He could feel Miranda moving to be closer to them, heard her breathy laugh as she started to pepper James with small kisses on each of his ribs.

It was at that moment that they heard a knock upon the door and were forced to separate. Thomas sat up. One he was satisfied that James was in no danger of being jostled, he looked to the door.

“Come in.”

Max peered around the door, her face suggesting that she had been expecting an altogether lewder tableau. Once she appeared satisfied that she would not be faced by any of them in the nude, she stepped into the room fully, and smiled.

“Doctor Howell wanted to tell you that he is required on the beach, and will be unavailable until later in the afternoon,” she walked forward and smiled at James. “I also wished to see if Mr. Hamilton would like for me to draw him a bath to help relax his joints.”

Thomas looked down at James and assessed the soft and joyful expression on his love’s face.

“If you could ask Idelle to bring the water and the tub into our room, thank you Max,” Thomas sighed, “Has Howell left yet?”

Max shook her head.

“If you could ask him to wait for me for a few minutes, thank you Max.”

Max nodded and left them.

Thomas practically sprang out of the bed, pulling on a housecoat and flattening his hair down into something acceptable. He turned to James and Miranda and smiled apologetically.

“I’ll return shortly. Rest in the meantime.”

He hurried downstairs and pursed his lips apologetically when he saw Howell’s tense expression. He reached the foyer and held his hands out placatingly.

“I’m sorry, I promise that I won’t delay you, I just wanted to assure you that whatever you might require, whatever supplies you need, my house is more than happy to help you.”

“Thank you, Lord Hamilton but-”

“It was my understanding that the _Walrus_ was still in the process of careening in preparation for the moment that they catch wind of their next prize. What sort of injury has been inflicted?”

Howell sighed.

“It’s not so much a member of the crew but an, associated person,” Howell frowned with distaste. “The crew is most insistent on seeing them made whole, and I am the ship’s doctor, after all.”

Thomas nodded, having a feeling about what the ‘associated person’ would be, he stood to the side of the door, allowing Howell a clear line to it. Howell began to walk out of the house.

“Doctor Howell, my wife and I were led to believe that you and your shipmates were, while not genteel, at the very least decent men searching for a way of being free. Not the type of men to hurt a whore so badly that they required medical attention.”

Howell stopped at the door and looked back at Thomas with an unreadable expression.

“I assure you Lord Hamilton, it wasn’t my crew who doled out the beating.”

“Then who?”

“A member of the crew of _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , my lord.”

Howell left, leaving Thomas alone in the foyer until a startled Charlotte let out a yelp upon seeing him. Even he, a spoiled lordling winced when he heard the sound of the laundry in her arms falling to the polished marble floor. It would most likely take the poor thing hours to refold the linen.

“My Lord!”

He wasn’t entirely sure if she was referring to him or a different higher power. He turned, offering her a small apologetic smile as he started walking up the stairs.

“Doctor Howell’s gone, if you needed him I suggest you run after the wagon.”

Charlotte nodded and made to turn away when he noticed the slightly shifty look on her face.

“Charlotte, I promise you that you aren’t in trouble, but I would like to know if you had any information about the, uh, woman who Doctor Howell is treating. About how she’s linked to the _Walrus_ in particular.”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Not a woman, my Lord,” she sighed. “There were some people in the Navy who decided not to be, and there were some that were forced not to be. Howell doesn’t tell me much, just that he needs me to boil some rags for bandages.”

Thomas shrugged and nodded. He thought back to the meeting with the navy and tried to pick out any men who seemed particularly cruel in his memories. Unfortunately, they all had that sharp air which so often belied a horrid personality; he could not narrow down the list to just one individual who might have been cruelly inclined.

“You can pass onto Mr Logan that any illness which is a result of Naval mistreatment will be paid for by my household, however any injuries as a result of his interactions with the _Walrus_ crew...”

Charlotte nodded.

She smiled nervously at him, then continued. “Logan said to me that some of _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ men took issue with him. It wouldn’t be the first time that a young one has tried to set up and been chased off.”

Thomas nodded. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

He walked back up the stairs and towards the bedroom, smiling when he saw that James had sat himself up so that Miranda could press soft kisses to his many freckles.

He strode towards the bed, the issue of the injured whore on the beach already slipping away from his mind.

James was sitting in the ornate bath-tub when he returned to the room, the bath shirt doing very little to preserve his modesty as he ran a bar of soap along his arms and across his chest.

Miranda smirked as she walked over to Thomas, offering him a cup of tea once he was within range of her.

“Are you perfectly alright dear?”

Thomas glared at her.

“You, madam, are positively evil.”

Miranda laughed softly. “Now, now my love, I’m merely pointing out that you seem so faint all of a sudden. What sort of wife would I be if I didn’t check on your wellbeing?”

“I can hear you,” James looked up at them, his half-smile, half-frown something that James had longed to see for so many years. “And you’ve neglected… to ask me about… my wellbeing.”

Miranda sighed exaggeratedly. Thomas watched as she moved over to James’ side, resisting the urge to laugh when he saw that his wife was on the verge of climbing into the tub with him.

“I wouldn’t want to increase Charlotte’s laundry load, my love.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and pulled her nightdress completely off.

“I know that ‘Know no shame’ is your motto, my dear, but I think that I might choose to borrow it from you for this occasion.”

Thomas gave into the urge to laugh this time, sitting next to the loves of his life, on the drier side of the tub, watching James use his hands to run soap through Miranda’s hair in wonder.

James laughed at his expression, his green eyes catching the light as he turned his head to Thomas and gestured for him to join him.

“I can’t, love, I have work to do. The Island needs me.”

Miranda glared at him as best she could considering that she was upside down and mostly naked.

“I rather think that we need you.”

“There is work to be done,” Thomas tried to protest, but he could feel his resolve wavering as James pulled Miranda into the tub and began to rub a bar off soap into her hair. He stood stock still as he watched the two loves of his life frolic in the tub, the sunlight filtering in through the window and making their hair shine.

It was such an idyllic scene, and the business of liberating Nassau was so momentous that surely a few hours rest wouldn’t delay the entire process too much.

Thomas began the arduous process of untying his house-coat. He had the presence of mind to poke his head out the door and inform the footman that they wouldn’t be needed for the period before noon.

There would be no room for him in the tub, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t sit beside it and revel in the newfound closeness to James. He smiled as Miranda flicked James with some water and laughed as his quieter lover sputter in slight indignation at the perceived slight.

James turned to him with a smile on his face, his expression only brightening when Thomas leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

“You spoke so well last night, I’m so proud of you.”

A shadow passed over James’ face. Thomas leaned forward and brushed his hand over James’ slightly bristly cheek.

James pushed his hand away looking at him with those clear green eyes in the same way he had in London when Thomas had suggested a particularly dangerous idea; a unique mix of disappointment and fear.

“I can’t,” James paused, pulling Miranda close to him. He swallowed and continued, “Be the way.”

James shook his head and buried his face in Miranda’s shoulder. Miranda turned to face Thomas, her expression clearly telling him to fix whatever mistake this was turning into.

“James?” Thomas placed a hand on James’ shoulder, waiting for him to lift his head before he began to speak. “Love, I don’t want, don’t need you to be the way that you were in London. I’m not the same person who I was three years ago, Miranda isn’t.”

James looked at him in slight confusion.

“I just want you to be here, with me, because I love you, have loved you since the first day we met. However you are here? It’s far less important than the fact that you are here, and that you are happy with me.”

James sighed in relief, leaned over the rim of the tub and pressed his lips to Thomas.

All was well in the Hamilton household, at least for now.


	14. Solomon I.

There was a huddled heap on the beach of Nassau, which upon closer inspection, turned out to be a man. Or, rather, the huddled heap turned out to be a boy, of no-more than fifteen years, who seemed to have been left by the navy with all the other detritus.

Gates had been the first of the captains to notice him, Teach being too busy setting up his camp again after a long absence and Naft being not the most observant of men at the best of times. In all fairness to Hornigold, he had been the second man to notice, however by this time, Gates had already sent an exploratory party to determine if the boy was shaking due to some injury or if it was for fun. Judging from the fact that Randall had needed to act as an interim medic while Howell was away and treat the bite wounds of Muldoon and Logan inflicted by the boy, it was believed to be the former.

The boy didn’t particularly care what the other captains thought of him, understandably his attention was more focused on the deep gashes on his back inflicted by one of his former superiors. Still, he did force himself to take notice when a man only slightly older than him approached, his long greasy hair immediately catching the boy’s attention and his murderous expression keeping it.

The man settled a little bit away from the boy, outside of the biting radius, and set a glare upon him.

They stayed there for a while, neither one willing to make the first move until the man sighed and turned to look at the sun setting over the bay.

“I’m not meant to be here,” he began, his gravelly voice making it sound like the sentence took more effort than it actually did. “My crew’s been away for a long time, and we’re meant to be putting the island back to its proper state.”

The boy didn’t respond to this, instead preferring to shift his attention away from the man and onto a spit that was being set up in the distance. He was so hungry, especially after he had suffered all that he had gone through recently, that he might be willing to ignore thousands of years of tradition and hundreds of years of the Spanish inquisition being filled with dickheads in order to have a full stomach. The real question was how he was supposed to get any food, especially now when he looked closer and saw the two men he had bitten lounging around the fire in a rare moment of peace for the pirates.

His attention was drawn back to the man by his sudden approach. The boy fell back slightly, not caring about the loss of his dignity as he scrambled to get away from the larger man.

The man stopped nearly as suddenly as he had started holding his hands up in a placating manner and backing down nearly immediately. He settled into a crouch and shrugged.

“Heard that you bit some people, on Gates’ crew. It’s not a way of making friends around here, or anywhere as far as I know.”

The boy shrugged.

“If you’ve been hurt by someone, one of those navy pricks, I can find someone to help you. You can come with my crew, join us, have a say in your future.”

The boy shrugged again. The man tried to approach again. This time the boy actually got up, his fists raised in a poor imitation of a boxer as he warded of the man.

A few years later, the man might have taken serious offence at this and might have tried to harm the boy. But for now, while he was new to Nassau and still remembered what it was like to be punished unfairly by a cruel master, he decided to let it slide, and did not pursue when the boy ran off.

The boy for his part, was mightily relieved by the fact that he was not pursued, though the trepidation he felt at having to find a safe place rose within him with every step. He dared not go near the bay, even with the navy gone for fear of being forced back onto a ship where his treatment would be more or less the same; he dared not go to the tavern for fear of the people who ran the island taking issue with him; he dared not go to the brothel for fear of becoming a forced employee of the establishment.

Given that he was quitting the beach, it left him very few places that he could go, and as nightfall approached, he started to feel the familiar creep of despair in his mind.

The shaking would not stop, his hands completely useless as he contemplated ways of getting dinner. He wasn’t completely averse to stealing something from one of the crews when they were drunk enough to let their guard down, but that would require his hands to stop shaking like the traitors that they were.

He took a deep breath and tried to remember a small house in Derry. In the memories he was smaller than he had been for many years now, and his mother was running her long slender fingers through his hair. He remembered the sound of her voice as she would sing to him in one of two languages, neither of them widely spoken outside their shabby wooden door and both of them frowned upon by his father, even as the man planned rebellions and risings in an ancient language frowned upon by the English occupiers of their country. He remembered the feeling of the rain falling soft upon his face even as the sun shone down upon him in the summer. He remembered the smell of his mother’s cooking, and it was this more than anything which stilled his hands.

He snuck forward, careful to let the shadows obscure him for as long as he could as he approached the fire belonging to the crew of the men he had bitten earlier. When he reached the edge of the firelight, he looked around slowly and carefully, taking note of who appeared to be inebriated past the point of standing, who was definitely asleep, and who was awake.

Maybe this was why he hadn’t had much luck in the navy, his mind too focussed on making schemes to pay attention to his duties; his need to be alone and have his own space impeding his ability to work in a team as was necessary upon most navy ships. _Perhaps_ , he thought as he contemplated whose bowl he should steal, _there is something wrong with me_.

It was a thought to be quickly put aside, even as the throbbing pain in his back threatened to bring it to the forefront. He shook his hands out as he stared at one of the closest full bowls and mapped out his path to it. He’d have to avoid the balding young man he had bitten earlier, along with the portly man who he took to be the captain.

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

The boy crouched, looked at the bowl and made a run for it.

It was only when he was well past the camp, a stolen bowl held in his hands that the ramifications of this desperate act of survival hit him.

He had stolen a piece of crockery from a fucking pirate crew, along with the thick looking stew that it held.

The boy fell to his knees on the sand and looked down at the ill begotten meal. There was a war going on inside him as he considered whether or not he should try to return the stew, whether that would save him from their wrath.

But then, on the other hand, he was so fucking hungry.

The boy shoved the thoughts of an angry pirate crew to the side and ate all of the food in the bowl.

* * *

When next the boy saw the pirate crew, they were prepared for him. Despite his best efforts to remain unseen in the shadows, the sharp eyes of the Captain followed his every move, and eventually he realised that he would go hungry that night if he continued to stake his hopes on their negligence.

It was with the greatest trepidation that he made his way through the darkness to the space where the crew of _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ supped around their own fire.

They were altogether rougher men than those who crewed the _Walrus_ , their eyes crueller, their words sharper, and their frames altogether burlier. They were dangerous men even by Nassau standards.

But Solomon’s stomach pained him, as did his back, and he could feel himself swaying on his feet, and even though the chickens were probably overcooked and under seasoned, they smelt absolutely delicious after a full day without food.

He dug his heels into the sand, in the shadows, waiting for the men to grow drunk and slow enough that their chances of catching a scrawny thief would be miniscule.

If he had been paying more attention, he might have noticed a sharp pair of eyes which remained unclouded by drink or drug, their owner watching the little shadowy crevice with a look which could almost be called concern.

But Solomon’s stomach pained him, and he needed to eat now or he would grow even weaker than he already was, less capable of defending himself than he already was, and that was not a possibility that he wanted to entertain.

He darted forward, ready to grab a chicken, but halfway to the bird, he felt a firm hand grabbing his arm, dragging him away from the fire and towards the more mobile members of the crew.

“So we have ourselves a little thief.”

Solomon tried to wriggle out of the man’s grasp, only squirming around enough to see that the man was tall, had a dark beard and hair, and that he had a fearful countenance.

There was no way that this could end well.

* * *

He was in too much pain to bite Muldoon and Logan by the time they found his huddled form, tucked surprisingly carefully underneath a blanket that might have once been a ship’s sail among the rocks near where the _Walrus_ crew made camp.

Solomon wasn’t able to say that he was quite sure of anything, but he knew that their hands were gentler than the crew of _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ had been when Teach had thrown him to them, and that they seemed to care about his comfort as they picked him up and carried him towards the main tent of the camp.

He passed out at some point between the doctor being called for and him actually starting his work, only waking much later in the day, when he heard hushed voices in the tent and came to realise that he was laid upon a makeshift bed made of empty crates.

“They’ll need me back at the house soon.”

“I’m sure he needs you more than their strange lord.”

John opened his eyes and dared sneak a look at the men in the tent. There was a dark haired man with blood – _his blood_ – on his hands and a small frown on his face and a shorter bald man who wore half-moon spectacles and had a ridiculous moustache.

“They’re good people, they have no idea what it is like to live in the real world, but they’re good. They care about him, and about this place.” The captain said with a curt, short voice.

“They care about one of their own and want to avoid the same fate as the last governor’s family. I’m quite sure that if you told them there was a boy half beaten to death they would still insist on your presence.” The doctor spoke quietly even as his tone grew irritated.

“You say that while they’re paying us, but how long do you think they’ll be kind and courteous while we’re actually attending to our own business. Do you think that they’ll be happy as we bring back our spoils, knowing that their friends are the ones cutting the losses?”

The doctor shrugged and turned towards the table.

“You’re awake.”

Solomon couldn’t do much more than breathe, but he tried to breathe in a way which would show that he was present.

“The men have decided to forgive you for that small act of theft earlier, given that Teach and his men have already taught you the evil of that particular act.”

Solomon gasped in a breath, he would have loved to point out that it was a bit hypocritical of a pirate crew to take offence at theft. It was at that moment that he realised even the simple act of breathing was painful.

“You have broken ribs, and of course there’s the lashes but you’ve probably already noticed them. I haven’t done a full examination yet, I thought it might be better to wait until you’re asleep.”

Solomon tried to shake his head.

“Please,” he wet his lips, “I don’t-”

To his horror, his eyes overflowed with tears as the doctor began to lift the blanket that covered him where he lay on a pile of empty crates, and a high pitched, uncontrollable whine emanated from him as the doctor cut through the fabric of his shirt and began to poke and prod at his ribs.

“I can give you some Laudanum if you wish.”

Solomon tried to shake his head.

“No.”

The doctor sighed and shook his head. “The only way you are going to heal is if you rest, and the only way that you’ll rest is if you’re asleep, and you’re not going to do that unless something makes you sleep. He looked away from Solomon and in the direction of the captain, obviously having a conversation with their eyes.

Solomon took a deep painful breath and reached out to grab the doctor’s arm. He did not have the energy to speak, but instead tried to glare as best he could when he was covered in his own blood and unable to do much more than breathe without assistance.

“Please.”

The doctor sighed again and walked towards the back of the tent, returning to Solomon’s line of sight with a waterskin in hand. “You will only hurt yourself if you try to muddle through this alone.”

He lifted Solomon’s head to help him drink, the young man not noticing the sickly-sweet taste of the laudanum in the water until he’d swallowed enough of it that it was starting to take effect.

“You’ll be fine with us boy,” the captain said as he moved towards his chair just within Solomon’s rapidly diminishing field of vision. “just ye rest for a little bit and we’ll think of what to do with you later.”

Solomon stopped trying to fight the effect of the laudanum that was quickly overpowering him. Instead he made the very quick decision, that once he was back on his feet, he would find someplace of his own far away from this or any other crew of pirates.

 

 


	15. James V

James woke in the main bedroom for the sixth consecutive morning, and a warm feeling filled his chest as he observed Thomas’ chest slowly rise and fall as the slightly taller man remained blissfully asleep. He glimpsed over to where Miranda was just beginning to stir, her eyes opening and closing several times in rapid succession as she stretched her arms above her head.

“Good morning darling.” She yawned and reached out for him, her delicate hands dancing over the exposed skin of his shoulder before she brought one up to caress his cheek. “Are you feeling up to walking to the beach with me?”

James nods and shifted slightly to be closer to Miranda, his crooked hand uncertainly coming up to rest on other shoulder as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I would like it.”

Miranda kissed him on the lips, gently, and devoid of the veracity of the kisses they used to share in London, but no less filled with love.

“What time is it?” Miranda forced herself into a sitting position and surveyed the room, her eyes stopping on the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room. She smiled and fell back onto the bed, kissing James on the cheek when he looked at her in question. “It is early yet. I forget how long the days are here, so close to the equator.”

“And how warm.”

Miranda laughed softly, only stopping when James sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong love?”

James sighed again, out of uncertainty, rather than the need to . “Will Thomas free Nassau?”

Miranda shrugged, her nightshirt falling of her shoulder for a brief second before she righted it. “We nearly succeeded last time, and that was with a repugnant lord and a traitor doing their best to hinder our efforts. Now we have the whole force of an empire on our side, a force which if applied correctly might just free us from it.”

“At what cost?”

Miranda sighed, picking up James’ still crooked right hand and kissing it on each fingertip. “It will go better this time love.”

James shook his head and looked over to the still soundly sleeping Thomas, hating the way that his eyes were beginning to sting with burning tears as he thought of his three years in Bedlam.

“I lost you once. There were moments. Where I thought…” James sighed, “Where I thought. I might never see you. Or Thomas. Again.” He sniffles. “I can’t. Do that. Again.” He closed his eyes and willed the tears to disappear.

And then a hand that was too large to ever belong to Miranda brushed up against his cheek, wiping away the tears that had already escaped his eyes and massaging the skin around his temple in gentle circular motions. James opened his eyes to see the clear blue eyes of Thomas, the skin around the corners of his eyes creased in a smile that was matched by his mouth.

“I promise you that we’ll be careful,” Thomas began, speaking softly and deliberately. “And I will never put you into harms way. If it comes to it, I will quite happily flee this island with nothing but the clothes on my back, _Meditations_ , and the two of you.”

“Do you promise?”

Thomas nodded, then leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth, waiting for James’ nod of assent before he brought his mouth to James’. His hands moved down from where they had lain against his cheeks to his waist. James made a surprised but happy sound in the back of his throat at the unexpected contact, a groan being teased from his as Miranda’s small soft hands trailed along his sides. He threw his head back for a second, smiling in response to the twin concerned glances he received from both his lovers.

“I’m fine. Just, a bit slower.”

He waited until both Thomas and Miranda nodded their assent before he reached forward and pulled both of them back down onto the sheets.

* * *

James, Thomas and Miranda waited in the downstairs parlour as Max and Charlotte saw to their bedroom. All three were in various states of undress, James desperately trying not to laugh as he watched Miranda pour the tea from her finest tea set into the matching cups whilst her Nightgown threated to fall from her shoulders and onto the ground. Miranda was in on the joke, as was Thomas, all three of them sharing playful glances.

Thomas was little better than his wife, his pants dangerously low on his hips. If Max and Charlotte weren’t upstairs, James – knowing full well their former profession – would have feared scandalising them. He took the offered teacup and made a great show of drinking from it, pleased that his fingers would bend far enough that he was able to make a mockery of the ‘correct’ way to hold a teacup.

“I was planning to speak to some of the captains in the next week,” Thomas smiled gently, as though he knew that James wanted to avoid this topic of conversation. “Naft, Hornigold maybe. But definitely Teach.”

James frowned and put his teacup to the side. “He’s dangerous.”

“I know. Which is why I want you to help me come up with a strategy to deal with him. I remember what happened with the last governor of this place, and I would be loathe to repeat his mistakes.”

James closed his eyes and shook his head in confusion. “You want me to what, try to haggle with him? Thomas I-”

“Not haggle, I want you to devise a way to destroy him. Should the need arise, I need to know that you and Miranda will be safe and I can think of no safer way than having the most celebrated strategist and tactician I have ever known make a plan that can effectively undermine Teach.”

James opened his eyes and picked up his teacup. He smiled slightly.

“I want this place to be free,” Thomas continued. “But I will not trade your security for that freedom. You are the loves of my life, and there is nothing on this earth which is more important to me than you.”

James smiled again, wetting his lips and beginning to think of the various ways he could safeguard his family against the dread pirates of Nassau.

“I think you must be prepared. If it become absolutely necessary. To do away with Teach. This might be difficult for you to do. But you will have to accept it.”

Thomas nodded and drained his teacup. He looked at Miranda with a gleam in his eye and then turned to James with a smirk which was nothing short of conspiratorial.

“I’ve heard a rumour that Teach has a particular weakness for a certain type of woman. Is it possible that there is some such woman on the island?”

James shrugged. He stood, stretching out his arms and rolling his neck to get rid of any residual stiffness before he walked forward and took Thomas’ hands.

“Whatever the case may be. Anything to do with Edward Teach. Must be approached. With the utmost caution,” he licked his lips as he paused. “But thank you for listening to me. I know that it can be hard for you.”

Thomas smiled.

“Whatever makes you feel safe will never be a chore to me.”

Miranda cleared her throat, drawing the attention of both men as she positioned herself to look like a lady on her chair despite the lack of the clothing, or even an opaque nightdress which would mark her as one.

“I think that both of you would find it to be useful to visit Nassau town. Call it research, call it me being desperately bored of staying within the bounds of our house and garden, but I would like to see the very place that we are setting about liberating properly before we actually go about that liberation.”

James smiled and nodded at Thomas when his lover looked at him in question.

“I will call the carriage around immediately.”

* * *

James adored both of his lovers, but that love did not mean that he didn’t want to protest at the both of them as they fussed over him for the entire carriage ride into Nassau town. Miranda kept on asking him if he was cold, and Thomas either could not or would not stop rearranging the light blanket he had draped over his shoulders despite the heat.

James estimated it to be the halfway point to the town of Nassau when he finally tired of it, pushing both of them away and fixing them with a glare that he had picked up, however unintentionally, from Thomas himself.

“I swear that I have never loved anyone as I love the pair of you, but if you continue to fuss over me, I am going to storm out of this carriage and walk all of the way home.”

Both Thomas and Miranda paused at this, their twin expressions of sheepishness amusing him more than anything. James sighed happily before reaching forward and resting his hands upon both of their laps, sighing softly when, in movements which were completely in sync with each other, they took his offered hands, and smiled back at him.

“I have been to this place before. Admittedly not in circumstances such as these, but I do know how to navigate this place. I know that you worry about me, that you think me fragile, and in truth maybe I still am, but I know how to address this situation. I just need you to be there with me as I get my bearings.”

Thomas and Miranda shared a glance. They nodded, but their hands didn’t move away from his, even as they reached Nassau town and it came time to get out of the carriage.

James followed them out of the carriage and into the street. The sand under their feet was remarkably solid, made so by the weight of so many people walking on it every day as they went about their business. Despite the richness of their clothes, and the fact they had just gotten out of the only closed carriage on the island, the denizens of Nassau town ignored them and went along with their daily business.

Miranda looked back at him, a small smile on her face as she offered him her hand and brought him close to her side.

“We’re going to visit the pirate crew that Doctor Howell hails from.”

James huffed. “Why?”

Miranda shrugged. “You’re at the point where I believe that you are no longer in need of his services. Not to the extent that we require him to be within reach at all hours of the day. I’m sure that his captain will be relieved to be able to sail with a surgeon again.”

James fixed her with a look, which while not a glare was designed to extract some additional information from her. “And?”

Miranda sighed. “Thomas?”

Thomas grabbed James’ other hand and snuck a kiss to his temple.  “I have heard that Captain Gates is one of the more reasonable and experienced captains on the island. I am not going to talk about the liberation of Nassau, I know it is too early for that, but I would like to cultivate a friendship between his crew and my family. Especially after his surgeon has taken such good care of you.”

James didn’t respond, preferring to raise his eyebrows at Thomas before making a slightly disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. Thomas responded by shrugging and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I promised that I’m not going to rush into anything, and I don’t plan on doing anything without your say-so. I just want to know who I will be dealing with.”

James smiled, allowing himself to be led towards the colony of tents on the beach which he assumed to belong to the pirate crew that had borrowed Howell from. Miranda took the lead and guided them through the mess of tents towards a larger structure which seemed to be the unholy combination of a tent and a hut. She walked up to the door, walking through the opening and bringing James and Thomas behind her.

“Captain Gates?”

James stayed behind Miranda even as Thomas stepped forward. He took his position of lowered prominence to examine the captain. Despite his piratical nature, the man had an almost friendly air about him, even as he approached them by the door with the clear intention of preventing them from seeing much of what was inside the tent.

“Lady Hamilton, Lord Hamilton. Now is-”

“I wanted to inform you that we no longer require Doctor Howell’s full-time services,” Miranda peered past him to get a look of his desk, which seemed to have been cleared to make way for the figure of a young man, who even though he appeared to be asleep, seemed to be in great pain. “Something which I’m sure would be appreciated given the state of this poor young man.”

Captain Gates took a step aside, Miranda moved into the space he had left behind, getting closer to the boy on the table. James followed her as a shadow, his eyes fixed on the boy as two young pirates helped Howell to move him from his back and onto his stomach.

“What ails him?” Miranda turned back to Gates for a moment.

Howell removed the bandages on the boy’s back. He picked up a bottle and began to apply salve to the inflamed skin there.

James stepped around Miranda, feeling Thomas’ hands lay a fleeting touch of reassurance on his back as he shuffled forward far enough to be able to confirm to himself that he indeed knew what the cause of this injury had been.

“He was whipped, on a Navy ship,” James turned to Miranda, his displeasure at the situation clear on his face. He waited a second before turning back to Captain Gates. “Am I right?”

Gates nodded.

The boy whimpered at the cool salve being placed on his back. Thomas stepped forwards past James and Miranda until he was only a few feet away from the boy.

“Those aren’t his only injuries. Nor his most serious.” Thomas paused, sighing and digging the heel of his right palm into his eyes. “Captain Gates, I fear I already know who did this, and I know it was not you. But indulge me, tell me who did this particular act of mindless violence.”

The boy whimpered again as Howell applied clean bandages and helped the two younger pirates to roll him back onto his back. James could now see the dark bruising which denoted broken ribs, and worse yet finger-shaped bruises around his throat.

“The men of _Queen Anne’s Revenge_.”

“And their captain allowed this? Encouraged it?”

“To the best of my knowledge.”

James watched Thomas still for a moment, knew him well enough to see that at least a month’s worth of carefully laid plans had just crumbled to dust.

Then the love of his life straightened his spine and turned to Gates.

“I think we can both agree that this is less than an ideal location to treat such serious injuries. If you would be amenable, I would be happy to provide a room in my house so that he might recover as quickly as possible.”

It was settled quickly, Thomas ceding his seat next to James and Miranda to help Howell support the still unconscious boy as they rode back to the mansion.

James collapsed next to Thomas and Miranda on their bed when they had finally set the boy up in James’ old bedroom. He turned to Thomas and smiled softly.

“It will be difficult.”

Thomas shrugged.

“It will be worth it.”


	16. Miranda V.

If, three months earlier, you had told Miranda Hamilton, newly minted Countess Ashbourne, that she was going to spend much of her time in Nassau playing nursemaid, she would have laughed at you.

But now, as she dabbed at the fevered forehead of a boy she had never met before today with a wetted rag, she considered how it seemed that just as she had ceased needing to tend to James, Nassau had dropped another battered soul on her doorstep.

He stirred slightly under her ministrations, a pained breath escaping his lips as his eyes flickered beneath his eyelids. He brought his right hand, so similar to James’ in all the ways in which it had been damaged, up towards her hand, blindly grabbing for the source of the cool water. Upon finding the rag, he relaxed slightly, his breathing slowing and his hand falling back to his side.

Howell was on the other side of the bed, tending to the boy’s left arm where someone had seemingly carved something into the soft flesh of the wrist. He sighed, drawing Miranda’s attention.

“Is something wrong?”

Howell looked up at her with his eyebrows raised. Miranda smiled ruefully. “I mean aside from the obvious. Is there something specific which you have noticed?”

“The cuts here are deep, he may not regain the full use of his arm.”

“Poor child,” Miranda put the rag aside for a moment, moving some of the dark curls out of the way of his eyes. “Is this kind of punishment common among the pirates who call Nassau home?”

Howell sighed. “Among certain crews, yes.”

“Teach’s in particular?” Miranda sighed and put the rag back in the bowl she’d been using to wet it. She sat down next to the boy, pushing his hair out of his eyes again.

“Not among my crew,” Howell rebandaged the arm and placed it by his side. “If he doesn’t wake within the week, he won’t wake. For now, I’d suggest letting him rest, and trying to get him to drink water a few times a day.”

“You’ve avoided the question Doctor. If the closest thing that the Pirates of Nassau have to a king treats everyone like this, I need to know for the sake of my safety and that of my family.”

“Teach is a brutal man sometimes, that is true, and he commands the respect of the men on this island. What has happened to this boy is not strictly speaking conventional, but it is not unheard of.”

Miranda tucked some of the curls behind the boy’s ear and sighed. “He’s so young. What could have justified such violence against him?”

Howell sighed. “I will not lie, Teach may take issue with your husband for more than just his desire to reform Nassau. It has been said, and I must stress this, I have not seen this myself… It has been said that he takes issue with the conduct of some men towards other men, certain behaviours. In this boy’s case it was likely his act of theft, but for others, like your husband…”

Miranda held up her hand. “I think I understand. It is strange to think that such a notorious pirate would be in agreement with the Lords of Whitehall about anything, though if it was to be anything, I suppose that sodomy laws have always been somewhat… universal in the parts of the world that I have been to.”

Howell shrugged. “Men on the _Walrus_ have had matelotages solemnized. Like I said, his crew is particularly…”

“Extreme?”

“I suppose that is one way of putting it. Try to keep the boy warm.”

Miranda pulled the sheets up to cover the boy up to his chest and then adjusted the pillow underneath his head. She stood and worked with Howell out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

“Will you be coming back? Or should we go to the beach if we need your services?”

“If he needs help, I fear that there won’t be much that I can do. The best that you can do is to make him comfortable and hope that he wakes soon.”

Miranda nodded and watched as Howell walked towards their gate. When he was out of sight she turned back into the house. She walked back up the stairs and into her room, collapsing on one of the scattered lounges in the room as soon as she reached it. James had retired to bed, but Thomas was still up, sitting on the window seat and annotating a ledger.

Miranda sighed and angled herself towards him. She smiled tiredly and called across the room.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Thomas hummed under his breath, the closed the book and turned to her. “I will still need to speak to Teach, much as I hate the thought, he’s vital to ridding ourselves of the navy.”

“But?”

Thomas groaned. “He perpetrates such violence, and not even in a directed way. What can be gained from harming a child in the way that he has? Miranda, I don’t understand.”

Miranda shrugged. She pushed herself up off of the lounge and walked towards the window seat, pressing a kiss to Thomas’ temple. “You’re just going to need to be pragmatic about this my love. While he is useful, we’ll keep him close, when he becomes obsolete, then…”

“Maybe it was naïve to think that I would have left behind all of the political manoeuvring and backstabbing when I left London behind,” he sighed. “I hoped that these men, that yes they would be rough, and that they might be difficult to deal with, but I hoped that they would be better than this.”

Miranda pulled Thomas up and onto his feet, leading him towards the bed. “This will be an issue for us to worry about tomorrow too. You should try to get some rest.”

Thomas nodded, allowing Miranda to remove his cravat, waistcoat and pants. She led him to his side of the bed, then walked over to her own side of the bed, falling beside James and taking the copper haired man into her arms.

Everything would look brighter in the morning. She was sure.

* * *

They boy was awake the following morning.

Miranda was first made aware of this fact by a pillow being thrown at her head. If she had been any other highborn lady, she might have been shocked by this, but as she was Miranda Hamilton, the Jezebel of London, it was easily dodged.

At least the boy had the decency to look a little bit sheepish. He lowered his right hand and shuffled back until he was flat against the headboard. Miranda stepped forward, a small smile on her face.

“Doctor Howell, that was the man who treated you, wasn’t particularly confident that you would wake at all,” she took another step forward, stopping by the foot of the bed. “You’re staying in the Governor’s mansion, a few miles away from Nassau town.”

Miranda stepped around the bed and towards the side table. The boy shrank back. Miranda paused and offered him a small smile.

“No one is going to hurt you. Doctor Howell said that we should make sure that you drink water, that’s all I’m going to do.” She picked up a small wooden cup that Max had brought from the kitchen, pulled the cheesecloth of the pitcher of water that hat been right next to it and poured the water from the latter to the former.

The boy watched her with wary eyes and waited for her to step away from him before he took the cup from the bedside table. Using only his right hand he shuffled himself back against the headboard and clutched the small cup of water close to his chest. Miranda retreated to the foot of the bed, sitting on a chest of James’ clothes while offering the boy a polite smile.

“My name is Miranda Hamilton. What’s your name?”

The boy shook his head, he put the empty cup down beside him and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, his head the only part of him visible and even then heavily obscured by pillows.

Miranda sighed, she stood and walked over to one of James’ bookshelves, pulling out a copy of a translation of Don Quixote. She forced a smile to her face and turned back to the boy.

“It must be very boring here, being by yourself while the rest of the world goes about its business. I could read to you if you like. This one is a story about a mad man, you might enjoy it.”

The boy gave no indication of whether he had even heard her or not, still staring at her warily from his protected spot under the covers. Miranda, having nothing of pressing importance to do for the rest of the morning, and a desire to re-read a favourite, took this as an indication to stay.  She sat on the chest at the foot of the bed and opened the book to its first chapter, reading the words almost by memory at this point.

It was around the point that Dulcinea came into the story that the boy sat up again. He leant forward towards her, the sheets still wrapped around him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s better in Spanish.”

Miranda smiled at him. “You’ve read Cervantes before?”

The boy quietened almost as quickly as he had spoken, retreating back to his pillows and refusing to say a word more.

“It’s alright if you have. I won’t be angry if you’d prefer another story. We have an extensive library, you might prefer Shakespeare or Marlowe, or some such playwright.”

The boy shook his head, turning away from her and burrowing his head into his pillows. Miranda stood and walked over to the side of the bed, poured another draught of water out into the cup, and held it out to the boy.

“Please, I promise you that no-one in this house is going to hurt you,” she sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for a few seconds. “Please, just tell me your name. Even if it isn’t your real one.”

The boy turned to her and frowned. He took the cup from her before draining it in one gulp. Miranda smiled at him and reached out to him, her hand moving the stray curls out of his eyes. His eyes did not leave her, but he did not bat her away either.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Miranda poured another draught of water.

Eventually the boy turned to her.

“I’m nobody.”

Miranda frowned. She handed him the cup.

“Whatever you may feel about yourself, I highly doubt that you are nobody. Surely someone gave you a name, or you chose one for yourself?”

The boy shook his head. He pulled his blankets tighter around his shoulders and relaxed back onto the bed. “Why did you bring me here?”

Miranda shrugged and smiled. “You needed a place to recover, and we owe the crew of the _Walrus_ , Howell especially a great debt. It was the least we could do.”

The boy shrugged at her explanation, turning to look through the opened window.

“What day is it today?”

Miranda closed her eyes, trying to remember and taking an embarrassingly long amount of time to do so. She smiled as she came upon the answer.

“It’s Friday today,” Miranda stood, straightening out her skirts. “Which means that tonight Idelle will be preparing us a roast pig for dinner tonight.”

The boy nodded, suddenly recalcitrant again. He fell back onto his bed, clearly dismissing Miranda in a way that his previous shyness had not. Miranda leaned forward a final time to brush the hair out of his eyes and then walked towards the door.

“Our maid Max will bring you some food for dinner. If the food is too rich for you, we can arrange something light.”

The boy nodded and Miranda left.

* * *

Max was sitting in the library, her feet tucked up under her as she devoured a book. Miranda took a moment of pause at the door, enjoying the sight of the young woman looking completely at ease as she took a moment’s respite from her daily duties.

Miranda walked into the library, gesturing for Max to remain seated when she started to get up off the chair. She sat opposite her, gazing around the room with a decided air of fondness.

“It’s been a while since I spoke with you Max. It feels unfair considering how important you are to the running of this house. What are you reading?”

Max held up the cover, revealing a tome of fairy stories complete with elegant illustrations.

“That was a gift from Thomas after we first married. We thought we might have children together at that stage. Are you enjoying it?”

Max shrugged. “They are sweet stories, but I feel more and more in my life that the time has come to put sweet things aside.” She smiled at Miranda. “I suppose that you will need me to tend to the boy?”

“You don’t mind do you?”

“I find it strange that you have decided to treat a boy you’ve never met before in such an esteemed manner while Charlotte, Idelle and I are relegated to merely being your help.” Max closed the book, squaring her shoulders and glaring at Miranda.

“Both of your situations are temporary. When he is recovered we will find something for him to do, and when we have successfully liberated Nassau your position may also improve.”

Max sighed. “May improve. Who would you replace me with then? More girls procured from the brothel? Or do you imagine that you will settle down on a farm in the interior and do everything by yourself? Personally I find either situation unlikely.”

“What do you foresee for me then?”

Max shrugged. “I do not pretend to be as idealistic or as optimistic as you and your husband about the future of this place. Empires do not easily let go of their lands, no matter how small or insignificant. But if you are genuine, then why is it you seem to seek to replicate the society you have come from? You would position yourselves as rulers of this place in all but name, you who have never lived here before, you who ignore the advice of people who have.”

Miranda closed her eyes and resisted the urge to grit her teeth. She forced the air out of her nose, opened her eyes, and plastered her best society smile onto her face.

“People like you?”

Max nodded.

“I do not ask you to elevate me above you. I know that it is something that even the best people smart at. But I want a voice, the knowledge that who I am, the circumstances of my birth, that these things which would relegate me to the lowest stations were I to live in London, that these will not define my prospects here.”

Miranda nodded, breathing in slowly as she listened to the words and out as she thought about them.

“Can you promise me this?” Max leant forward in her seat, her youthful eyes wide as she examined Miranda’s face.

Miranda smiled.

“Yes.”

Max smiled.


	17. Thomas V.

Thomas had faced tough negotiations before. He had to deal with the worst that Whitehall had to offer.

That was nothing in comparison to the sight of the famous Blackbeard sitting before him.

The man looked around his office with an air of disdain, as though it was below his dignity to be summoned to such a place like a common dog. His every movement seemed to be designed specifically to make Thomas uncomfortable, as though Teach was trying to intimidate him in his own home.

Maybe in another time, if Thomas had been a different sort of man, it might have worked. But Thomas was familiar with playing a part, with the theatre of everyday life, and so, when faced with a man trying to project the persona of a pirate king, it was easy for him to look underneath the mask and see the true face of the man.

People said that Blackbeard cut an impressive figure when he went over the rail and raided merchant ships. All that Thomas saw was a man of more advanced years than himself and thus carried the ravages of time expected of him; his black hair was beginning to grey at his temples, his once tall frame was beginning to stoop, and a paunch was beginning to show through his tattered coat.

People said that Blackbeard showed no fear, even in the face of near certain pain and death. All that Thomas saw was a man who looked around with a cautious expression, who surely knew that even if he did launch himself across the desk and murder the latest Governor of New Providence Island, he would soon be caught, hanged, and have his body displayed in a gibbet for all of the townspeople to see.

People said that Blackbeard was a monster who could haunt a man’s dreams. Thomas knew better.

He would not allow himself to become afraid, especially not in his own house.

This was only to be a meeting between two men, and Thomas could count on his hand the number of times he had come out worse off when it came to those.

He extended his hand and smiled.

“The reports that have come to me in London are divided on your last name. Should I call you Teach, or Thatch?”

Blackbeard shrugged.

“Does it matter? I don’t anticipate spending much time together.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Teach, I intend on us sharing a long, prosperous partnership.”

Teach frowned.

“Why would I want anything prosperous?” He gestured around the office. “I’ve seen for myself that those who thrive in such conditions as you are the first to leave the minute something goes wrong. As far as I’m concerned, this is a waiting game, whatever you’re trying to build between us.”

Thomas sighed. He hadn’t expected the most fearsome pirate in the Bahamas to be such an idiot.

“And when you fail to thrive, am I to take it that your crew celebrate their lack of profit?”

“My men never fail to thrive. They are the strong men that can only be brought up through strife, who make genteel merchant sailors afraid to take to the sea. From what I hear, you are not.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“From what you hear.”

“You are not the only person to have spies in London and the Bahamas. From what I’ve heard, you are not the sort of man I would wish to associate with.”

Thomas could feel where this was going, could see the scorn in Teach’s eyes. He’d assumed that it was just a pirate’s natural response to be surrounded by even a façade of civilisation, but now, he suspected it to be something entirely different.

“Whatever it is you wish to say, Mr. Teach, I suggest you say it. I’m sure that neither of us would wish to waste time.”

Teach glared, his light blue eyes at complete odds with his stormy countenance as he leant forward and raised the corner of his lip in a snarl. “As you wish. If my spies are to be believed, you’re nothing more than an upper-class pillow biter who barely managed to save his depraved lover from the noose.”

Thomas closed his eyes as he felt his hands curling into fists. In comparison to James, whose temper burned with the ferocity of the Great Fire, he had always been deemed practically docile, but there were some things that he would not let stand. He opened his eyes.

“And I hear that you’re an impotent, aged, pathetic pirate, whose crew is only kept in check because he has a quartermaster vicious enough to keep them all terrified and in line.”

They sat, completely still and quiet for a few seconds as they glared at each other over the desk.

“But,” Thomas continued, “I know that when it comes to the most fearsome pyrate menace of Nassau town, you are the only one who knows how to manage a fleet effectively. I know that if you wished, you could have ejected Thompson from the Island without any issues months before you murdered his family. I know,” he leaned forward, unafraid of letting his teeth show as he practically snarled, “I know that for all you claim to despise Nassau when it is prosperous, you benefit enormously from that prosperity. So don’t try to lie to me, or claim that the people I sleep with would be a barrier to us making something free of this place.”

Teach raised an eyebrow.

“Navies will come.”

Thomas shrugged. “Let them come. I have one of the most skilled strategists to ever grace God’s earth on my side. We can make what Gloriana achieved seem like child’s play.”

Teach grunted.

“You forget the Gloriana was aided by a storm, and an inbred idiot on the throne of Spain.”

Thomas smiled. “I can assure you, there’s not much difference between Philip and the current Spanish monarch, or if I’m being entirely honest, the Queen of England either. And it might have escaped your notice, I know that your eyes aren’t what they once were, but storm season is coming.”

* * *

After Thomas’ meeting with Teach had ended, he made his way towards the library, not entirely surprised when he saw that his beloved copper haired angel was engrossed in a book. He walked forward, waiting until James looked up to stop and begin to speak.

“I believe I have brokered a deal. Teach will help us repel the English from this place. He knows about us, which may be a problem in the future, but he’ll help us for now.”

James closed his book and put it aside.

“Did you talk to him about what he did to the boy?”

“It would have been counterproductive. Miranda says that he’s alive. That’s enough to be thankful for at the moment,” Thomas sighed and sat next to James, laying his head on his shoulder. “When this is all over, I’d like to leave this place.”

James frowned. “After all the work that we’ve put into this place you would just leave?”

“Not the Island, but this house. Heavy weighs the crown.”

“But you’ve been doing this for your whole life. You might get bored not trying to guide the affairs of the place in which you live.”

“When I was younger, I would have done anything to have this level of power. I would have felt ecstatic about the prospect of managing this place.” He quietened and sighed, he picked up James’ hand and brought it to his chest.

“And now?”

“I just want to be with you and Miranda, to be safe wherever we go. There isn’t a anything else which is more important to me, nothing which I would prioritise above that.” He smiled. “I have found the two people who I love the most in this world, there’s nothing which could make me happier.”

James nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Thomas’ forehead.

“There are farms further inland. We could take a small one, I could teach you how to till the earth, how to plant crops. Miranda might have to choose a less extravagant wardrobe, but we could be happy.”

“You’d make me a gentleman farmer then? Would we be gentleman farmers together then?”

James smirked, his smile making Thomas’ stomach flip. “I don’t think I’d be able to look the part, do you? Maybe I could be a fearsome buccaneer, I could get the earring, steal a boat, make prizes of the same ships I once served upon.”

Thomas shook his head. “I could never be so far separated from you, especially not when there is so much danger, and your situation would be so fraught with it. No, I won’t have it.”

He smiled and kissed the back of James’ hand, a quick glance at his lover revealing that the slightly shorter man seemed to be amused rather than irritated by his silly declaration.

“You wouldn’t have to worry, I could take Miranda with me. I’m quite sure even the bravest man would tremble at the thought of meeting her in battle.”

Thomas nodded. “It probably would suit her better than farming. She does seem the type who would make a very good dread pirate.

“Oh do I?” Miranda walked into the library, the silk of her dark blue gown swishing as it brushed against the ground. She sat down opposite them, leaning to recline on her couch. She smiled at Thomas, her eyes glinting playfully as she considered what he’d said. “Much as I would relish being in charge of a crew full of handsome and well-muscled men, there are far more interesting positions for me to take.”

Thomas and James snorted in unison. Thomas closed his eyes and stretched out his neck.

“I was talking to Max last night. I think she agrees with you about the running of the place. She’d like a seat at the table. I’ve already promised it to her in fact.”

She sighed.

“There is one thing which needs to be considered. And he is currently asleep in what used to be James’ room. I knew before now that Teach was a vicious man, but what has happened to that boy, what has been done, I cannot reconcile those actions with a long term business partner. Before we relinquish our hold on the island, I think we need to rid ourselves of him.”

“I agree.” James spoke softly, but clearly, his voice clear and without hitches.

Thomas nodded and sighed. “I know.”

“Maybe you could talk to Gates. From what little Howell has told me, I don’t think that many men on the _Walrus_ are particularly happy with the attitudes that Teach so blatantly expresses and encourages within his own crew. You could potentially seek aid from the other captains, so that after we have repelled the navy, we might also repel him.”

“It feels underhanded.”

Miranda sighed and moved forward, dropping to her knees in front of him on the library floor. She took both of his hands in hers and pressed a kiss to the backs of them. After a few seconds she leant her head against his knees, taking a few additional moments to compose herself before she lifted her head and smiled wearily at him.

“More so than most of what you used to do in Whitehall?” Miranda lifted herself slightly, pressed a kiss to his cheek and stroked his hear away from his forehead. “At least here you can rest assured that what you are doing is in the genuine interest of most of the people here.”

Thomas shrugged and stood, doing his best not to disturb James or Miranda as he took a step away and turned to face the two of them.

“I need time to think. And much as I love the both of you, I think I need time to myself to consider what has to be done. I’ll see you at dinner at the latest.”

He waited for both of them to nod before he left the room, his feet carrying them to what had once been James’ room without any input from him.

The boy appeared to be sleeping in the middle of the bed, both of his arms laid down at his side, the bandages wrapped from his wrist up to his elbow on both of them. His breathing was shallow, and there were beads of sweat on his brow.

Thomas stepped further into the room, walking to the shuttered windows and opening them a crack to see the distant blur that was Nassau Town far off and near the horizon.

A noise from the bed brought Thomas’ attention back to the room. He turned and faced the boy.

“I’m sorry for waking you. You know this room has the best view in the house? I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate it in time. You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you need.”

The boy frowned and tried to sit up, shuffling backwards to the headboard. He looked around the room quickly, his breathing speeding up and his entire frame shaking.

Thomas stayed perfectly still in his spot by the window. He smiled slowly.

“You don’t need to worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I know that you have no reason to trust me about that, but it’s the truth none the less,” he stepped backwards and sat down on the window seat. “My wife tells me that you’ve woken before, but not what she said to you.”

The boy stopped trembling, but he continued to hyperventilate. Thomas raised his hands appeasingly.

“My name is Thomas Hamilton, and I am the governor of Nassau. You’re in my house and under my protection. And I will do my best to protect you while you are under my roof.”

The boy shook his head. He slowly moved his arms to lift the covers of the bed up to his shoulders. Thomas shrugged and smiled.

“No-one has told us your name yet. I know that we can’t keep calling you ‘The Boy’ forever. Is there anything you want to be known as? It doesn’t have to be your real name, just something that I can call you.”

The boy shook his head again. Thomas sighed.

“I’m here because I wanted to tell you that I won’t allow what happened to you to happen to anyone else. It’s cold comfort at the best, I’m sure, but I think you deserve that sort of promise after everything that has happened to you.”

The boy nodded his head.

“Miranda probably told you about our dinner plans, you’re more than welcome to join us. Or if you think that might be too difficult to manage, I’m sure that one of our maids would be happy to bring you up a tray. The choice is yours.” Thomas stood and smiled.

He walked out of the room and down the stairs, not entirely surprised to see that James and Miranda were sitting together on one of the couches in the library. He walked up to them and smiled.

“We need to talk about the dethroning of Teach.”


	18. Solomon II.

He did not like the strange man with the fancy words and the hair of spun gold. The woman who wore flowing gowns and spoke like a proper lady was also, as far as he was concerned, entirely suspicious. That left the maids, who ignored him aside from when they came into the room to deliver his meals.

He had ignored the invitation to dinner downstairs, and all subsequent suggestions that he might like to meet the denizens of the house.

For someone who had only ever made temporary relationships with other people, he felt entirely lonely. He stayed in his room most of the day, only daring to leave during the darkest moments of the night, when everyone was abed, and the house was quiet.

It was night now. He held his arms close to his chest as he snuck into the corridor, his footsteps light as he snuck past the bedroom nearest the stairs and slowly tiptoed down the stairs.

This was the first time that he had ventured downstairs, he didn’t want to run into anyone, and he was well aware that maids spent far less time in their beds than the other inhabitants of the house.

He wandered past the front sitting room and into the library. The shelves, filled with their beautiful leather-bound books, called to him. He smiled and walked over to the shelf closest to the window and pulled out one of the tomes. The front cover was illuminated with gold letters, and blue and red illustrated figures, dancing around one another.

He walked over to the window, smiling as the bright moonlight made the gold shine.

Someone began to open the library door. John ducked down behind the chaise-lounge, the book still clutched to his chest. Footsteps approached his hiding space, before the lounge creaked as someone lowered themselves onto it.

Solomon put a hand to his mouth and slowly lowered himself to the ground, careful not to make a sound as he waited for the unknown person to either leave or discover him. Nothing happened for a few minutes and then a noise came from just outside the window. Solomon knew to stay still, but it drew the attention of whoever was in the library with him. They stood and walked towards the window; Solomon finally able to see them fully.

It was neither the man from earlier or the woman, instead a new man with light red hair which glinted in the moonlight. He wandered over to the window, looking around for a few seconds before he turned around, sighting Solomon almost immediately.

Solomon stopped breathing, his lungs beginning to burn as the new man walked forward. He could feel sweat beginning to bead on his brow, his heart beating like the drums at the climax of an execution as he waited for whatever was going to happen to him to happen. He did his best to disappear into the upholstery, his attempt about as successful as he had expected.

The man crouched in front of him and smiled. He pushed his coppery hair out of his eyes and sighed.

“Hello. Miranda will be pleased to see that you’re up,” he sat down, not appearing to mind the hard floors or the light breeze that was coming through the crack under the window. “She mentioned that Howell was worried whether you’d recover fully.”

Solomon said nothing in reply, just tightened his hold on the book. His eyes flicked towards the window, some part of him trying to map a route to the window and failing.

“My name is James; would you like to tell me what yours is?”

Solomon shook his head, though he did lean forward slightly, the moonlight now fully shining on his face. He stayed perfectly still as the man inched just a little bit closer, the smile never wavering, its genuine nature never faltering.

“Doctor Howell was my doctor too, when I first came to the island. He’s very good, wouldn’t you say?” The man laughed wryly, looking down at his hands and offering them to Solomon.

Solomon tilted his head to the side and leaned forward a little more, a frown coming to his face. He examined the man for signs of injury and was shocked to find that there was none. The man smiled softly and held out his right hand, his left pointing to the parts of his fingers which were bent from being broken.

“They’re much better than they were. You should be fine in a few weeks.”

James stood, stretching his back and then turning towards the door. He paused for a second, then turned to Solomon, a hand outstretched. “You’ll probably prefer to read in bed, I know that I do. C’mon.” He jerked his head towards the door and walked out of the room.

Solomon got up slowly, the book pressed to his chest. He inched towards the door, pausing when he saw James waiting at the top of the stairs. James smiled and walked back towards the bedroom near the staircase, the door closing softly behind him. Solomon waited for any sign of movement from the room before he alighted the stairs and walked towards his own room. He rifled around the bedroom for a candle, using the dying embers of the fire to light it and fix the candle into the holder with softened wax.

The book was a collection of fairy stories, written by an Irishman. Solomon’s reading was more than acceptable, but for tonight at least his attention was grabbed by the beautiful illustrations which appeared every ten or so pages. Sidhe frolicked in fairy rings and enticed gullible travellers into their realm, the Dullahan rode his fearsome stallion along a road lined with bones, the púca hid among normal animals with its mischievous eyes promising trouble for whoever passed it.

Solomon was so entranced by the beautiful drawings that he didn’t notice the sun rising, or the door to his bedroom opening.

Miranda came through the door. Solomon immediately threw himself back onto the headboard and brought the covers up to hide the book and his arms, his breathing immediately turning to barely controlled gasps. Miranda paused a few feet away from the bed, her hands resting on her stomach.

“I need to change the bandages on your arms. Doctor Howell is busy today, and so I thought I might give it a go,” she walked forwards and sat on the bed next to him. One of the maids entered with fresh cloth bandages and a bowl of water which she set on Solomon’s bedside table.

He moved his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the bowl rather than the two women in his bedroom. It was unchanging, the threat it posed to him easily quantified. The same could not be said of them.

Miranda smiled at him, she looked back at the maid and then back to him. “This is Max. She mentioned that you don’t say much when she brings your meals. I thought maybe that you might be shy,” she walked forward, “I assured her it wasn’t any sort of slight against her.”

Solomon stayed perfectly still, the covers still held around his frame. He turned his head and looked at the maid, who couldn’t have been much older than him, and then back at Miranda. They were positioned so that trying to get past them to the door would be difficult, if not impossible and it seemed with every second they were getting a little bit closer to him.

He didn’t want to inspire any wrath, but he desperately didn’t want her to see his stolen book or for his still aching arms to be touched. So, he did the only thing that seemed like a viable option, and completely cocooned himself in the covers, refusing to be moved even as Miranda tried to coax him out. He was quite sure that Max was rolling her eyes in frustration, but then she didn’t have more scar-tissue than skin, and so he remained under the covers, even as he heard another person walk into the room.

There was one flaw in his otherwise flawless plan, that being that the covers were not in fact as difficult to move as the walls in the fort, which made it very easy for the most recent entrant to his room to simply lift the top cover off of him, revealing both him and the book. He blinked at the bright light suddenly reaching his eyes, stunned for a moment before he regrouped and attempted to go for the window.

This was also thwarted quite early, James, for that was who had walked into his room, grabbed him round the middle at which point it became evident that Solomon was not going to be escaping from this place any time soon. He went limp, though nothing could be done to make his breathing any less ragged and waited for whatever was to happen to him to happen.

“It’s alright,” James carried him over to the bed, putting him back on top of the covers. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Solomon shook his head and closed his eyes. Someone had their hand on his chest, pushing down slightly when he tried to exhale and lifting when he needed to inhale. He heard two sets of footsteps moving away from the bed, though the door didn’t open and close.

After about a minute, Solomon opened his eyes. It was Max’s hand on his chest, her eyes looking down on him with a clear mix of confusion and annoyance. He lifted his hand and pushed it away from him, levering himself up onto his arms and shuffling back to the headboard once again. He was exhausted and slumped back against the pillows.

Max retreated to sit with Miranda on the window seat, James walked forward, stopping by the bedside table to pick up the fresh bandages. He sat down on the bed next to Solomon and held out a hand to him.

“I’d like to change your bandages now. If you’d prefer Miranda or Max to do it, they can, but you need to let me know. If we don’t change them, there’s every chance that they become infected.”

Solomon nodded and held out his left arm to James. He couldn’t extend it fully, so he waited for James to unfold it and unravel the bandages. He turned away from the sight, it was bad enough to feel the blood sticking to the bandages and opening the wounds as it was pulled away; he didn’t need to see it.

“It isn’t as bad as it could be.”

Solomon turned and looked down at the gashes on his arm. Maybe it was the dried blood, but he wasn’t nearly as optimistic about them as James seemed to be. Even as James began to gently dab the tacky dried blood away from his arm, he could see how long the slashes were. James dried Solomon’s arm and wrapped a new clean bandage around it.

“The other one now,” James reached for his arm, Solomon yanked it away and shook his head. “Or we could wait if you need to. Miranda could read to you from the book you were admiring in the library.”

Solomon shook his head. He sat up a bit straighter and held out his right arm for James to take.

“Thank you.”

The process was repeated for the right arm, the wounds slightly less gruesome this time.

“Howell mentioned that you were whipped as well,” James sighed and turned to look at Miranda. “We should probably see if those bandages can come off.”

Solomon shook his head and cleared his throat. He looked at Miranda and Max, then back at James. “I don’t want…” He shrugged and pulled his arms back from James. “A lady shouldn’t…”

James nodded and looked over to Miranda. She sighed and stood, walking towards the door. She paused as she opened it and looked at John. “If you would like me to come back, just send James or Max for me. I’d be very happy to continue reading Don Quixote with you.” She smiled and left.

Solomon waited for the door to close before he sighed in relief. He looked at James and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Hold your arms up while I unwrap the bandages and then lay on your front.”

Solomon nodded and followed the directions. He could not stop shaking even as James made vaguely soothing noises, even when he was prompted to lie down on his stomach, he could feel his entire body trembling.

“I’m going to check your back now. Do you want something before we start?”

Solomon shook his head. He closed his eyes and waited for pain, only to find that all he felt was a pair of gentle hands prodding around the edges of the lashing that he’d received shortly before the Navy had left New Providence Island.

“I think you would do better without the bandages on now. As long as you don’t lift anything heavy, you’ll be fine. You can sit up now.”

Solomon sat up. He picked up his book and returned to his spot underneath the covers, only to see Max sigh. His eyes flicked between Max and James several times as he once again began to breath more rapidly than he reasonably should have. Max walked forward and roughly picked up one of his pillows, startling him even further.

“Your sheets need to be washed. It’s already going to be hard enough for Charlotte to get all the dried blood off.”

Solomon didn’t so much get off the bed as he allowed Max’s prodding and pulling of the sheets to bring his feet in contact with the floor. He looked at James, suddenly aware of the fact that the other man was fully dressed and he was only wearing his night-pants.

“Get out please.”

James nodded and left. Solomon stumbled over to the window seat and collapsed onto it. He stared out of the window, frowning as he saw a blonde-haired maid already struggling with a pile of dirty laundry. He turned back to Max and watched as she struggled with the fine cotton sheets on his bed.

“I could help.”

Max shrugged. “Very well then.”

He stumbled over to the bed, falling to his knees and pulling the sheets out from under the mattress.

“You don’t like me, do you?” Max huffed out a sigh as she took the freed sheet off of the bed and placed it in the basket.

“I don’t like how you have affected my place of work, no,” she picked up the basket and made for the door. “But I will not begrudge you your wounds, or the need to recover from them.”

“And once I’ve recovered from them?”

“Well, by then there’ll be no need for you to be here disrupting the order of things, will there?”

She left, leaving Solomon to stumble back over to the window seat and consider where he would go and what he would do once the wounds on his arms healed.

It was a frightening concept.


	19. James VI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late! I'm sorry, I've been sick and the urge to write has been completely subsumed by that to curl up into a ball and drink lemon and honey tea. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.
> 
> We're nearing the end. Only a few more chapters to go (Maybe four? Six at the most) and then it will all be over. Please let me know if you want translations of the Irish, Welsh and Cornish, I'd be happy to give them but they aren't really necessary for the understanding of the story.

James was not, strictly speaking, supposed to be privy to this meeting between Thomas, Hornigold, Naft, Gates and Teach. Strictly speaking, it was meant to be a tactical meeting where the five pirate captains would propose the methods best suited to defending the island to Thomas, who would then deliberate for a few minutes and come to his own conclusion.

But James knew exactly how good a strategist Thomas was, and he didn’t trust the man to remember the exact details which they would propose well enough for him to give good advice. And so, here he was hiding at the crack of a door trying to listen to whatever tactical advice the captains may try to suggest as being the best defence of Nassau.

It was a more difficult task than he had anticipated. He loved Thomas with all of his heart, but the man seemed to have positioned all of the captains in the worst possible way for him to be able to hear what was going on. As such every few words were lost to the void and he had almost completely relied on Captain Naft’s hand gestures to understand his (admittedly nonsensical) plan.

Of all the captains, and he hated to admit it considering the state of The Boy, but Teach’s plan held the most merit. His viciousness clearly translated into the effective tactics which he proposed in the event of reprisals against the pirate population by the British Navy.

After a few hours of planning on Thomas and the Pirate Captain’s part, and to James’ eternal dismay, it was decided that the best way of proceeding was by following the plant of Teach. The copper-haired former Lieutenant beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom and did his best not to make any noise as he waited for the captains to file out of the house.

Except it wasn’t his bedroom anymore. It was The Boy’s.

It was too late now to leave the room without giving away his presence to the Pirate Captains. He turned and smiled apologetically at the boy.

The Boy stared at him from under the dark thick lashes that only came from crying recently. James walked around the perimeter of the room to the window seat, he sat down very slowly and offered him a smile.

“I’ll go as soon as the coast is clear,” James caught sight of the treasury of Irish Fairy stories on the bedside table and smiled. “Are you enjoying it?”

The boy nodded after a few seconds hesitation. He picked it up with his right hand and held it out to James. James stood and took it, his eyes flicking to The Boy’s injured left arm. “If it’s still hurting you, I can always get Doctor Howell to examine it again.”

The Boy shook his head and frowned. “When he helped you, how had you been hurt?”

James sucked in a quick breath. He had not thought that he would need to revisit his memories of Bedlam ever again. Clearly this had been a foolish assumption. Even as a warm Caribbean breeze flowed through the window, he could feel the icy chill of bedlam’s dark halls on the back of his neck.

James sat next to The Boy on the bed and sighed.

“I was in a very bad place, a place that they say is of healing, but is worse than any prison I can conceive of.”

“Why were you there?”

“They say that I broke the law. I didn’t think that I had, but they said that I was... abhorrent.”

“Why would they say that?”

James shrugged.

“There are many things in the world that you have little to no knowledge of. I don’t want to scare you.”

The boy laughed hollowly. “I think that I know enough of the world to know its myriad injustices, whatever you worry might scare me, I can assure you that I’ll be fine.”

James shrugged. “Thomas loves me, and I him. If you’ve ever been consigned to a church service then you would know that is frowned upon by all denominations, and the law.”

The Boy was still for a moment, any trace of a smile on his face gone as he looked at James in what could only be called veiled fear. One again, for the thousandth time since James had met him, The Boy brought his covers up to his neck and quieted.

James sighed in disappointment. He had hoped that a misfit, as lost in the world as The Boy was, might have been more forgiving of his relationship with Thomas. It appeared that he was wrong. He sighed and stood, not exactly surprised by this turn of events, but disappointed none-the-less. He’d leave the boy alone now, let Miranda tend to him-

“He really loves you?”

James nodded and ceased his movement towards the door. He turned to The Boy and smiled, even daring to show a little bit of his teeth. “He does, yes. And I love him, and Miranda. She loves me too for what it’s worth.”

“And he hasn’t hurt you?” The Boy’s blue eyes were wide, the covers forgotten and left to fall around his waist. James winced at the sight of the bandages, evidently dirtied a little by The Boy’s constant movements whenever anyone entered his room. After his shock at the bandages faded, he was shocked anew by the words themselves.

“No.  He would never hurt me, not even by mistake. Why?”

The Boy shrugged and winced, one hand involuntarily moving to his back. He looked at James briefly, his eyes darting away before long. “I’ve never known love not to hurt, is all.”

James sat down again, this time slightly closer to the bed, on a chaise lounge he remembered from his first day in the house. “It shouldn’t. When someone loves you properly it should make you happier than you could ever imagine being.” James sighed happily and let his eyes flick over to the book once again.

“I could read it to you of you would like. I’ll even pronounce the names properly.”

“I don’t think an Englishman has ever pronounced the names properly.”

James smiled, his chest lightening as he saw the boy smile too, content that the two of them had shared a joke, mutually understood and not liable to lead to any pain or punishment further down the track. “But you forget, boyo, that I’m not properly English.”

The boy’s smile brightened even more. He leant forward as if to investigate James and narrowed his eyes. It was refreshing to see a fifteen-year-old boy act as such, the babyish curls of his hair no longer at odds with his demeanour. “Your hair marks you as a man of Eire.”

James smiled and nodded. “You’re half right.”

The boy seemed almost affronted. “Only half?” He shuffled even closer to James and began to inspect him even more closely. “With that accent, if you’re’nt English you’re a Celt. Scottish?”

“Maybe if ye looked further back than my grandparents, try again.”

“You aren’t lyrical enough to be a’ Cymro. And everyone knows to be a Manx is to stay on that Island. And you’re’nt French. But that just leaves the Corns, and they’re poor as anything.”

James smiled. “Sowyn!”

The Boy smiled and fell back onto his pillows, his previously distraught mood seemingly forgotten until he gasped and sat bolt upright again. James rushed forward to the side of the bed, looking for an injury.

“What happened?”

“M’back hurts.”

“I can get some laudanum if-”

“No!” The Boy shook his head vigorously. “Just keep talking.”

James smiled and shrugged. “We’ve actually been talking about you a lot. We keep on calling you The Boy, as you can probably imagine, it isn’t very convenient. Now that you’re actually talking, maybe you could let us know what else we could call you.”

The Boy shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll be here long enough for it to matter. I don’t want to be a pirate, and I certainly don’t want to be caught up in whatever bullshit you’re trying to pull with the Navy,” he sighed. “You can call me what you want. Whatever works best.”

“I’m sure that someone put a lot of effort into naming you. I’d not like to see their efforts foiled. Whatever your name is, it can’t be as bad as all that. Maybe if you gave me a clue, you wouldn’t have to tell me, just say if I guessed right.”

The Boy smiled weakly at that. “It’s in the Bible.”

James smiled. Unless the boy was from a family of truly creative puritans – an oxymoron if he’d ever heard one – that meant the boy’s name couldn’t be too obscure. “Joseph?”

The boy smiled and shook his head.

“Matthew?” was replied to with a snorted laugh. “Mark?” with an incredulous expression. “Luke?” A frown. When “John” was suggested, The Boy froze.

James reached forward, just short of placing a hand on The Boy’s shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I can just read to you if it will make you feel better.”

The boy shook his head, a false smile suddenly coming to his face. “I’m sorry. You were right. It’s John.” He turned away from James and leaned across his pillows to pick up the book. James focussed his gaze upon The Boy – no, _John’s_ – hand, trying his best to hide his concern as he watched the way it trembled. Instead he forced a smile to his face and made sure not to touch John’s hand as he took the book. He waited for John to look at him before he opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s a good strong name. Better than James. It means betrayer. What story do you want to hear?”

“I want the story of the Bean Sidhe.” John carefully lowered himself down onto his pillows and watched James with wide eyes as he narrated the story of the fearsome wailing fairy woman.

He waited for John’s eyes to droop closed before he snuck out of the room, returning to his actual bedroom after making sure that the pirate captains of Nassau were indeed gone. James closed the door quietly behind him, the soft click of the door enough to interrupt Miranda’s admittedly poor attempts at embroidery with Max and Charlotte. His lover stood, leaving the two maids to their work as she approached him and walked towards the far corner of the room with him in tow. Her brown eyes seemed concerned as she placed her hands on his forearms and fiddled with the loose fabric of his shirt.

“What do you think?”

James shrugged. “It’s a solid plan, a little bloody but I’ll admit that it’s probably the best way for getting rid of the British Navy.” He smiled and looked down at his feet. “It might be a lot for Thomas to deal with at first, but he’ll learn in time how to live with the choices he’s made.”

Miranda quirked an eyebrow. “That dramatic?”

“That’s what war is like Miranda. And I can think of no other way to describe what is coming for us other than a war.” He looked over to where Max and Charlotte were sitting, an unwelcome thought coming into his mind. “When we are forced to confront the Navy, no-one, not even Teach will be able to promise you complete safety even on land. It might be for the best if you take the maids and John somewhere further inland before the fighting begins.”

“I wouldn’t want to be so far removed from you. Or from Thomas, besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that Max’s reaction to being with The Boy for more than a few minutes would be violent indeed.”

“His name is John. Or at least he says that his name is John, I suspect it’s actually some Irish variant. He knows the names of the creatures when they’re spelt right. What’s the problem with Max?”

Miranda smiled and looked back at the two maids. James followed her gaze, only a little bit surprised to see that their youngest maid was not wearing one of the uniforms that they had brought with them from London, but in a prettily fashioned dress which seemed to be new. He turned back to Miranda.

“She declared that she’d be wearing that when she started this morning, seeing as we were living in such unorthodox times. I would say that the root cause is the bedroom, but it would be foolish to say that is all that it is. I think that they are very similar children when it comes down to it.” Miranda smiled and looked back at James. “I always used to fight with my sister.”

James nodded. “Just as children are wont to do. And seeing as we are housing children, even Max and Idelle, I think it would be for the best if you were to take them inland before the fighting starts. Better pulled hair and a few bruises than an actual serious injury. Maybe you’ll even find a place for us to retire to while you’re there.”

Miranda rolled her eyes but nodded in acquiescence all the same. “I think you should go talk to Thomas now. I’m sure he’d welcome a friendly face after today.”

“Not you?”

“Someone who can actually tell the difference between the two ends of the ship and tell him that what he is doing is the right thing. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

James nodded and walked out of the bedroom and towards Thomas’ office. When he entered Thomas was leaning backwards against his desk, looking out the window and towards the bay that was just out of sight of it. James slowly walked over to him, settling next to him at the desk, his posture a mirror of his lover’s.

“You’re making the right choice Thomas.”

Thomas shrugged. “I can’t help but think of all the men who will be on those ships, ours and the Navy’s, who have chosen this path because they thought it might lead them to a better life. Who’ve known nothing but pain and strife, who’ve sought freedom and found it in the waves, who’ve only ever had the worst opportunities and choices presented to them. How many of them do you think will be lost in this upcoming confrontation?”

Thomas turned to look at him, looking for all intents and purposes like a lost little boy who needed the reassurance of someone that everything would be alright come the morning.

“I think that the best thing we can do for them is to remember their bravery when the fighting’s over. Make sure that the world knows that they fought bravely, and for their freedom.”

“And after all that’s said and done?”

James wrapped an arm around Thomas and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Have you read the Odyssey or not?”

Thomas nodded, though he looked somewhat confused.

“We take an oar and walk inland until someone mistakes it for a shovel.”

“I don’t think that its quite a large enough Island for that.”

James smiled and pressed another kiss to Thomas’ cheek.

“We can try.”


	20. Miranda VI.

The British had come early in the morning, apparently tipped off to their plan by Peter Ashe. The sun had been just below the horizon when the first cannon had fired and woken the inhabitants of the Governor’s mansion.

James had taken one look at Miranda and Thomas before ordering them to head inland. Thomas had managed to successfully argue that he was needed on the ground seeing as he had conceived this entire shebang. Miranda wasn’t quite so lucky, especially considering that she had just been inundated with a terrified Max and an equally spooked John flinging themselves into her arms.

And so, she found herself holed up in a farmhouse that had been abandoned in the Rossario raids, Max and John held tight to her side as they sat near the headboard on the bed in the back bedroom, while Idelle and Charlotte were sitting at the foot of the bed, the maids having declared they’d run off with the pirates if they were made to stay near the bay.

For possibly the first time in the time she had known them, Max and John were actually acting like the children they were meant to be. With every sound of the cannons on the beach, the two fifteen-year-olds clung a little bit closer to her. Even Idelle and Charlotte would inch a little closer to her on the bed during the periods of heavy fire.

“It’ll be alright,” Miranda assured them, brushing Max’s hair away from her face as she waited for the latest barrage of fire to end. “We’re far away from the fighting and the captains know what they’re doing.”

Max didn’t say anything in return, instead turning her face into Miranda’s side. John was somewhat more animated, though only in that he seemed to be crying into her side if the shaking and quiet sniffling was any indication. Miranda didn’t say anything, instead just rubbing circles into his back. When James and Thomas were done she’d try to get her copper-haired lover to talk to the boy, who seemed to always be in a state of mild discomfort around her and Max.

The next few hours were spent in the same tense silence, Max and John occasionally loosening their grip on her only to go back to holding her tightly as soon as a cannon fired.

The sun was high in the sky when Miranda heard the sound of boots on the compact dirt path outside of the farmstead and saw the bright flash of a red coat a few hundred yards away. Her heart launched itself into her throat as she disentangled herself from John and Max and started to crawl off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Everyone get onto the floor. Quietly.”

Charlotte and Idelle were the first to respond. They slid off the bed and allowed her to coral them under the bed with minimal fuss. Max and John took a moment, both of them seeming frozen at the prospect of danger. Max eventually realised the danger and hopped down, actively situating herself between Idelle and Charlotte. John took a little bit longer, waiting for Miranda to tap on his foot before he let her help him off of the bed. He moved under the bed, returning to his previous position of clinging to Miranda, his body just hidden by the frame of the bed.

The footsteps grew louder and louder, the sounds of the men’s breathing becoming apparent as they ran up the stairs of the house and began to enter.

Miranda placed her left hand around John’s face to cover his mouth. She used her right to pat him on the arm, doing her best to calm him down without words while she listened to the men’s boots on the wooden floors. His breaths, combined with hers, Max’s, Charlotte’s and Idelle’s, seemed deafening.

The footsteps entered the room. Miranda tried to pull John closer to her as the soldier got closer.

“What’s this then?”

Miranda watched in horror as John rolled out from under the bed and stood. She tried to reach out for him, but he had already been spotted.

John’s feet seemed so small compared to the well-polished leather boots in front of him. Miranda covered her mouth, afraid that she would give the rest of them away. Her eyes widened in horror as the boots took another step towards John, his small feet holding fast even as a sword was unsheathed, the sound of the metal against the sheath ringing around the room.

“What are you doing in an abandoned house boy?”

John gasped, and Miranda could just imagine the sword being placed against his throat. Once again, her hand began to reach out of John independently of any order she might have given it. It was only thanks to John taking a step forward and obscuring it that she remained unseen.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Three things happened in rapid succession after that.

The first was the sound of a cannon, one of the fort’s if Miranda was not mistaken.

The second, which Miranda couldn’t see, but definitely heard was the squelch of a small knife as it was pushed between a man’s ribs.

The third was the redcoat falling to the ground.

Miranda withdrew her hand. John stepped over the body and towards the entrance of the house.

When he returned, the sound of boots on the floorboards was gone. He dropped down to peer under the bed, the knife still held in his hand.

Miranda breathed in a gasp of horror at the blood which was on his hands. John pulled back, falling into a sitting position and scrambling back towards the walls.

Miranda pushed herself out from under the bed, crouching a few feet away from John. She extended a hand to him, forcing a smile to her face even as he swiped a hand over his face, leaving a trail of smeared blood on his cheek and forehead.

“John, darling, are you hurt?”

John tilted his head, considering the question. He made no move to run away when she stumbled forward to be within reach of her, instead shaking his head no and looking down at his right hand.

Miranda noticed that he was still holding the knife at the same time he did, their twin gasps of horror perfectly in sync. Miranda flicked her eyes over to John, noting the expression of anguish on his face just before she saw the quick breathing which had been so common during James’ bad turns.

She could deal with this.

“John, I’m going to count to three, and when I do, I want you to drop the knife. Can you do that for me?” She did her best to smile at John’s frightened expression and nodded at him when he raised his eyebrows in question. “It’ll be alright, darling, you’re not in trouble. C’mon, one, two, three.”

John dropped the knife and in the next second propelled himself forward into Miranda’s arms.

“You can come out girls.”

Miranda didn’t watch the girls as they came out from under the bed. Her entire attention was focussed on John and the slow progress of his breathing from entirely too fast back to normal. When she was confident that he wasn’t going to faint, she turned to look at the body of the dead Redcoat. She sighed when she saw that his eyes were wide and unseeing in death.

“Charlotte, Idelle, I want you to move that man into the next room and then come back here. Quickly.”

The two maids moved towards the body slowly. Miranda turned to look at them with a small smile on her face.

“It’s alright. He can’t hurt you, he’s dead.”

Idelle and Charlotte looked at her dubiously, bot of their gazes turning to John.

“Go on, now, before someone else comes.”

They quickly moved the body outside. Once they came back they collapsed on the floor near the door.

“I’m so proud of you girls. You’ve all done so well.” She turned and saw Max still hovering by the edge of the bed, as though she was only seconds away from throwing herself back under it. “Max, it’s alright, no-one’s going to hurt you.” She extended her arm to the shaking girl. “Come here.”

Max stumbled forward towards Miranda, collapsing next to her and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. The dark-haired girl pressed her face against Miranda’s left shoulder blade, carefully arranged to be close to John without actually touching him.

Both of the fifteen-year-olds were shaking, their grip on Miranda unbreakable as they sat in the strong sunlight and breathed heavily.

“It’s alright. You’ve all done so well, I’m so proud of you.”

The cannons continued to fire, but the strange quintet didn’t move as the day went by. It was in that position that James and Thomas found them several hours later, when the sun was once again low in the sky.

Miranda heard James before she saw him, his heavy leather boots making the wooden board creak. He gasped loudly when he entered the house, loud enough for Miranda to hear. At first she thought it was another redcoat, come to finish the job his brothers in arms had started. But then a single exclamation made it’s way to her ears, one which filled her with equal amounts of relief as it did sorrow.

“Miranda, no, please.”

Miranda turned to face the doorway and called out.

“James, we’re back here.”

The heavy footfalls made their way towards the back bedroom. Apart from a few smudges of gun-powder, James seemed unscathed by the battle which had been going on in the bay. He paused by the door, waiting for Miranda to nod before he walked forward and fell to his knees in front of her.

“Are you hurt?” he reached forward with one hand, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“We’re fine, I don’t think that anyone has been injured,” she pressed a kiss to the top of Max’s head as her maid squeaked in agreement. “But I think we’ll need to help Max and John onto the cart. It should still be out the front, unless the soldiers have damaged it. Would you go check and then bring it up to the veranda?”

James nodded, though he took a minute to breath and observe her before he stood.

When Miranda could hear the squeaking of the wheels and the protesting whinnies of the carthorse she did her best to stand. It was made difficult by the combined weight of Max and John, but eventually she managed to get to her feet. She turned to glance at Charlotte and Idelle, both of them wide-eyed and trembling slightly.

“Girls, I’d like you to go out and wait in the cart. If you need any help, Mr. Hamilton would be happy to assist. Send him in when you’re quite comfortable.”

She waited for them to go before she turned to the two children who were still clinging to her. “We’re going to try to walk to the front door now, do you think you can manage it?”

Her question was met with twin shakes of the head and a decided tightening of the two sets of arms around her torso. She sighed and tried to take a step forward anyway, only to find that it was like walking through treacle. She waited for James to return to her before she tried to move again.

Despite looking like a mother orangutan with two unruly babies clinging to her, James didn’t even smile when he returned to the back bedroom. Instead his eyes flicked between Max and John, settling upon the boy when he saw the blood on him. He looked back up at Miranda, his eyes confused as he took a step forward.

“John was very brave today, but he’s feeling a little tired now,” she carefully unhooked Max from her side and pushed her forward towards James. “As is Max. Would you be so kind as to help her to the cart, my love?”

James nodded and knelt in front of Max, his arms extended for the girl. Their youngest maid took a step forward and practically fell onto James, not even making the smallest sound of protest when he stood and carried her out of the room.

Miranda looked down at John, forcing a smile to her face even as she watched the dried blood on his face flake off onto her dress. She pushed a hand through his thick curls and sighed.

“I meant what I said when I told you that you wouldn’t be in trouble. I’m sure that James and Thomas will be so proud of you for keeping us safe. James is going to come back and we’ll carry you onto the cart together, and then we’ll go home. Alright?”

She felt John nod against her and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She took another step forward, and the another, then a few more. Eventually the two of them reached the front door, just as James had finished wrapping a blanket around Max’s shoulders and was getting down from the cart. He carefully scooped up John, both he and Miranda helping the boy up onto the cart. Miranda climbed up on the cart and arranged a blanket over him, while James walked towards the front of the cart and urged the cart on.

Miranda turned to James, her hands busy stroking John’s hair away from his face as he looked at the side of the cart blankly.

“Did the house take much damage?”

“Just the garden,” James looked back at her and smiled. “Thomas is there now, negotiating the return of British prisoners. We can put the girls and John upstairs and I’ll cook.”

Miranda smiled. “Thank you dear.”

They spent the rest of the time it took to get to the governor’s mansion in a companionable silence. Thomas was waiting for him when they arrived, his clothes slightly ruffled and his wig completely absent. He rushed towards the cart when they arrived, lifting Miranda off of it and bringing her into a bruising hug when the cart had stopped.

“It’s over. They’re gone.”

He stepped away from her, looking down and starting at the blood on her dress.

“You aren’t hurt are you?”

Miranda shook her head and looked back at the cart. “John kept us safe. I need you to promise me now that you won’t react badly to him, he’s not in a good state.”

Thomas nodded and walked over to the cart. Miranda watched as he effortlessly lifted John out of the cart and began to walk back to the house. James followed, carrying Max as he had done earlier in the day.

Miranda turned to Charlotte and Idelle, gesturing for them to get out of the cart and take her hands. The three women walked into the house, hand in hand. They wondered upstairs towards James’ old bedroom, where Thomas was already pouring steaming hot water into a wooden bathtub. James was sitting in between Max and John on the window seat.

Miranda sighed as she walked towards them. She knelt in front of James and offered him a tired smile.

“I think I found us a farm today.”

James smiled, leant forward, and kissed her on the forehead.

“We’ll take a look tomorrow.”


End file.
